Spoiled Sanity
by FragilePuzzle
Summary: AU. Mihael is the man with three faces--the blonde was locked in an asylum at age 10, diagnosed with three separate personalities. Will he be able to get a grip on his sanity with the help of a doctor named Near? Mello/Near, Near/Mello, Matt/Mello.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Okay guys…this is actually the first chapter to my NaNoWriMo project, but I feel bad because I haven't updated in so long. ^ ^ So I wanted to give you guys a little teaser—I've decided to put this story up after all. I hope you end up enjoying it, and I _will_ be updating this story regularly starting on November 30th. I hope you enjoy this little teaser!

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"Mihael, are you having a fun birthday party?"

"I'll bet you are, with all of these great gifts!"

The small blonde boy sat in the middle of a large group of adults, his smile slowly fading as people continued to ask him the _same question, over and over._ He didn't want to hear them talk, he wanted them to be quiet, but he daren't say anything. That might upset daddy, and he didn't want to do that. So he continued to take all of the stupid questions, his voice going lower and duller each time he answered, trying to be a good little boy so his mommy would love him. Why didn't his mommy love him already? Weren't mommies supposed to love their babies, even if they were stupid and ugly and whiny and didn't do everything exactly perfect?

"Mihael, aren't your parents so nice for throwing you such a lovely party? I remember, back when I was turning ten, I didn't get a party at all. Aren't you lucky, Mihael?"

"I…am…lucky…" he strained, the words becoming harder and harder to push out. It wasn't as though he didn't want to, anymore; it was like he simply _couldn't_. It was too hard for his lips to move, it was like they were stitched together tightly and his mouth was as dry as a carpet floor…the next question, he didn't give a reply.

"Mihael, is something wrong?"

"…"

"Mihael , answer!"

He wanted to say something, he was dizzy now, it was like somebody had a hand over his mouth…only that person was inside of him, their nails digging into the inside flesh of his lips, holding them shut. He couldn't talk, he couldn't answer his mommy, daddy was going to be so angry at him later!

"I don't like it! Shut up and leave me alone!"

He slapped a hand over his own mouth less than a second later, bright blue eyes widening as he looked up at all of the shocked adults. He saw his mother, her pretty brown eyes watering as she found that his birthday party wasn't satisfactory.

"Mommy, wait, no, I—"

Mihael felt this funny feeling in his pit of his stomach, and suddenly, his head began to spin, and he could feel his lips moving, even though he knew that he wasn't moving them. This was scaring him, who was talking for him, why was this happening?

"I hate this party, you stupid—"

Gasping for air, Mihael stood up, watching a few tears drip down his mother's cheeks. He had upset her now…he was in for it later, once daddy found out what happened. He was at work, now, but for good measure, Mihael decided he should apologize and lock himself in his room until this all went away…until it just went away.

Shoving past the group of adults, Mihael only trusted himself to yell a hurried, "I'm sorry!" before he burst through the door to the house, hollow floor tiles thudding under the weight of his feet. As he made his way up the stairs, he felt that _feeling_ in his stomach again, and he wanted to throw up and cut himself open to get it out. He had to make it stop somehow, it didn't matter how, but he wanted it to _stop_.

"Daddy's gonna be mad, daddy's gonna be mad….he's gonna be so mad…"

"Who cares if daddy's mad? I sure don't, and you shouldn't either, Mihi…heh…"

"Stop talking to me!!!! Leave me alone!!"

"Why, Mihi? I can't leave…you have to leave."

"I can't leave! This is my body!!!"

"It's mine too, Mihi…it's my body too. I think you should leave. You need to leave…"

Mihael began to cry, his breath hitching erratically as he ran into his bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. He grabbed a baseball bat, gripping it firmly in his hands and moving to swing it before dropping it on to the ground, shaking his head of blonde hair furiously.

"Mihi, you're not allowed to cry," he heard himself say. He could feel himself tugging on his hair, slapping his hands over his ears, shaking his head, and finally blacking out…but he wasn't blacked out, he was still awake. Only, it was like he had a whole new feeling—he didn't care what mommy or daddy thought, he just wanted to _hit_ something, and hit it as hard as he could. Picking up the baseball bat once again, his ears perked up slightly as he heard a knocking on the door. It was mommy, back upstairs to see what was wrong.

"Mihi…" she said softly, knocking on the door, her high voice quavering as though it was on the edge of tears. "Mihi, could I come in for a minute?"

"Of course, mommy…" he said, his voice shaking ever-so-slightly. "I'd like you to come in…"

There was the creaking of bedsprings as Mihael stood up, the rustling of clothing as he walked across the room, and finally the soft clicking of the thumb-turn lock on his doorknob as he opened the door. His mother was standing outside, her back-length blonde hair slightly out-of-place. Mihael had never seen his mother's hair out of place. It was always in those two tiny ponytails on the top of her head, and then the rest of it was down…Mihael thought it was so pretty. It was golden and shiny, it made her big brown eyes look so pretty, and her lips were so red and round and perfect. She used to be a pop star, her stage name was Misa-Misa…

But now, Mihael wanted nothing more than to ruin that pretty face. He wanted to make it bleed, to hurt it, to make his mommy pay for not loving him….he hated her…

"Mihi, please, tell me what's wrong—"

Mihael didn't hesitate before he pulled the steel bat out from behind his back, slamming in into his mother's face, her high-pitched scream echoing throughout the house. There was a dull thud as her body hit the ground—she had fallen down out of shock, her nose now bleeding freely, blood squirting out of her mouth as well. Not waiting, not hesitating for the slightest of moments, he slammed the bat into her face again, continuing to beat her until her screams and pleads became gargled and choked as she drowned on her own blood…and finally stopped. Dropping the blood-spattered sports equipment on to the floor, blue eyes glistening brightly and with excitement, Mihael felt warm, red liquid seeping through his clothes and tainting his skin. But he didn't mind.

"Mommy…" he said, voice holding the childish tone he had when he was younger, one of innocence and no knowledge of the horrors of the world. "Congratulations…I had fun at my party…"

"Misa?! Misa?!"

A woman walked into the room, one of Misa's friends that had been invited to little Mihael's birthday party—apparently, she had either noticed Misa had been missing, or had heard her screams. Her eyes widened as she saw the grotesque sight before her. Mihael was laughing softly, snuggling up to his mother's unmoving body, her face smashed and broken and blood staining the both of them. The red liquid also splashed sporadic patterns on the wall, leaving some kind of eerie design.

"Call the police!!!!!" she shrieked, loud enough for everybody downstairs to hear, also attracting the attention of the small boy that had been fixated on his mother's body moments earlier. He looked up at her, but all she saw was a sickeningly sweet smile from him before she slammed the door shut and ran downstairs, going to make sure that the police were arriving soon.

A few minutes later, little Mihael heard sirens, and the loud thudding of footsteps as policemen barreled up the stairs and to the bedroom—however, he didn't care that they were there. They couldn't stop him, nobody could. Even as they burst into the room, all of them horrified at the disgusting sight, but even more scared of the possessed look in the small boy's eyes, it didn't matter. As they dragged him to the back of the police car, all he could do was laugh.

---x---

"No mister, please, let me go back to my home!" whined a blonde man, his voice high-pitched, his eyes watering as he tugged at the straightjacket that was holding his arms in place. "Please, I promise I'll be good! I didn't mean to hit mommy! I promise I'll never do it again, just please mister, let me go! I-I'm scared of these places!"

"Shut up, crazy," muttered the driver, a man who was sitting in the front seat, behind a steel cage door, akin to the ones you see in police cars that keep the innocent policeman away from the dangerous criminals.

"I'm not a crazy, you motherfucking bastard," the same man said, his blue eyes flashing dangerously as he yanked on the straightjacket, hissing. "Now _you_ shut the fuck up and let me out of this goddamn thing, alright?"

Mihael, now a fresh twenty-two years old, got no response from the man this time. He angrily struggled against the confines that held him back, feeling the car beginning to move and briefly giving up. It didn't appear as though he could stop these people from taking him away to some new mental institution for the criminally insane. Those were the only kind he was ever let into. They said that normal mental institutions simply did not have the resources needed to handle him, and he was too crazy for normal prison…so it was off to some kind of new asylum, just because the fucking idiotic doctors at this one had given up curing him. Why the hell didn't anybody _try_ to help him, anymore?

"Please mister…" he suddenly cried, beginning to hyperventilate slightly, flinging his head back and forth, his hair flying about his face. "The jacket is too tight, I can't breathe! I-It hurts! M-Make it stop!"

"I said shut up!" he said, his voice harsh and unforgiving.

It was hours before they arrived at the new institution, Mihael's random outbursts always being interrupted by the man's harsh voice, the silence that followed being filled with either sobs or strings of muttered obscenities. It didn't seem as though Mihael's normal personality was going to make an appearance anytime soon—to be expected, of course. He was much too stressed for anything of that like, the straightjacket really seeming too tight, his hair sticking to his face and cheeks with sweat. He didn't want to be moved to another asylum, just to meet more doctors that wouldn't give a shit about him and were only trying to make a living, just to rot in a dank room all day, just to be moved to another crazy-house where the cycle would start all over again.

As the man stepped out of the car, Mihael got a good look at the size of his muscles and bulk, blue eyes fluttering quickly a few times as he opened the door and allowed the cold northern air to blow into the car. The air allowed a fresh breath of sanity into that cramped car, and Mello managed to calm down, the tear stains on his cheeks quickly fading and melting back into the flushed, rosy red color the rest of his cheeks were.

"Thank you…" he said softly, his voice now calm and regular as his eyes surveyed his new home, blinking a few times. They had driven past a large, iron gate that was shutting again, leaving them effectively trapped inside, until the gate manager decided to open it again.

"Let's go," he said gruffly, herding Mihael towards the creepy old building that was quite church-like in design, towers spiraling into the sky and windows with bars over them throwing creepy shadows on to the grassy green lawn. The blonde only saw a gold plaque that said "Wammy's Institution for the Criminally Insane" before he was shoved through the front door, his hair falling in front of his face that was reddened with humiliation. He hated how he was always pushed around like this, led like he was some kind of ignorant animal that couldn't figure out where to go for itself.

"I can walk…you know…" he said quietly, stumbling along as he was shoved again. "I'm not stupid…"

"Shut—"

"I'm sick of you telling me to shut up," he growled angrily, turning around with a look that spelled out pure death for the next to speak with him. "Why don't you shut the fuck up, you fucking arrogant cum-belching gutterslut?! Don't tell me what the fuck I'm supposed to be doing, yeah?"

"I'm sick of you talking back to me," he said, grabbing on to the straps of Mihael's straightjacket and pulling them tighter, choking the blonde man.

"A-ahhh!!" he shrieked, his childish voice taking over again, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. "Don't! Please! Stop it! It hurts!!!"

"Mister Ingram, please do not treat my patient so roughly!" a white-haired man said harshly, rushing up to the two of them, pulling the crying Mihael away from the driver. "Mister Ingram may leave now, I am sure he will receive his bonus for delivering the patient successfully."

Mihael looked at his newfound savior, his eyes still dripping helplessly. The white-haired man must have only been eighteen or nineteen, but he looked about ten years old. How he got a job at a mental hospital for the criminally insane, Mihael didn't know, but he didn't care, at the moment. The most childish of his three personalities was showing now, and he liked this man…he seemed friendly.

"Are you my doctor?" he asked softly, watching as the man walked off, turning to the white-haired boy a moment later. "Please, can you help me?"

Not answering him, the small boy continued to stare. He pulled out a clipboard, turning on his heel and beginning to walk, silently gesturing for Mihael to follow him when he decided that his newfound patient wasn't in a foul mood.

"What is something that my patient calls himself?" he asked, turning to the first page on his clipboard, placing the tip of his pencil lightly on the line that read 'name' as far as Mihael could see.

"You mean my name?"

His statement was followed by a nod, and Mihael saw the doctor scrawl something down on to a piece of paper.

"My mommy calls me Mihi," he said softly, stumbling along clumsily, his straightjacket impairing his walking ability. "Are you going to fix me now? Please?"

"Mihi, could I talk to Mihael?"

"Who's Mihael?"

"I know Mihael is in there, Mihi. Would Mihi please allow me to talk to him?"

"I said I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," the blonde man deadpanned, stopping straight in his tracks, simply standing in the middle of the hallway. "Don't talk to me anymore, you stupid fucking doctor. Do I look like more than one person to you? I'm one fucking person. I'm not sick. Let me out of here."

"Mihi?" the man questioned, cocking his head and taking a few steps backwards, looking at the blonde man with a new interest.

"Don't fucking call me that!" Mihael growled, struggling desperately to get out of his straightjacket and attempt to attack the man—however, to no avail, the jacket was simply too durable and refused to rip. "Don't call me that, you don't know me, you stupid fuck!"

"Then what _should_ I call Mihi?" he asked, blinking a few times, twirling a lock of snow white hair around his scarily thin finger.

"My name isn't fucking Mihi, it's Mello, you goddamn bastard, so shut your fucking mouth!"

By now, the white-haired doctor's eyes were focused completely on the clipboard, and he was rapidly scribbling down information on to three different pages that were on his clipboard. He didn't seem intimidated by Mihael at all, it was as though he automatically assumed that the man wouldn't be able to touch him, even if they were less than ten feet apart. Being ten feet apart from a man that others had deemed 'too far gone to help' and 'so mentally unstable, there was no chance he could be _cured_' and he didn't even bat an eyelash.

After a few minutes of calm silence, nothing spare the occasional scratching noise of a pencil or the sound of rustling as the doctor's coat whispered, Mihael managed to get himself back under control. He looked up, his face sweaty, his skin sticky under the heat of the straightjacket. He wanted to be cured…he certainly hoped that this detached doctor could help.

"I apologize," Mihael suddenly said, voice filled with sincere want to be forgiven. "I…I don't meant to swear at you like that. I'm trying to work on it. I-I—"

"Mello does not need to apologize," the doctor said, his sweet voice like music to Mihael's weary ears. "I know all about what is happening to Mello, and I—"

"Please don't call me Mello," he interrupted, cringing each time the doctor used his name. "My name is Mihael…I like that name…so please don't ever call me Mello."

"Ah."

He watched as the doctor scribbled more on the first paper, and then began to make his way down the corridor, silently beckoning once again for Mihael to follow him. The blonde did, his eyes occasionally flickering to the walls and ceiling of his newfound home. The building was dark and gloomy—not the kind of place you would expect to be a 'healing' environment in the least. It looked more like the kind of place you would lock prisoners of war, the flickering lightbulbs and the musty-smelling carpet driving Mihael insane already.

"We have a room prepared for Mihael," the man said, turning another corner, still madly scribbling away as though he had just thought of a brilliant invention, and had to write it down before he forgot about it. "It is a single bed, Mihael will have no roommates."

"Y-you can call me Mihi!" the blonde man insisted, now stumbling once again in a desperate attempt to catch up to the small doctor. "Please call me Mihi!"

"Ah, yes, Mihi, I apologize," the doctor said lightly, gray eyes flickering to him for the briefest of moments before turning back to his clipboard. "I still believe that Mihi will enjoy his room. He gets one of his very own. Did Mihi have his own room back at his house?"

"I have my own room," he said happily, biting his lip and frowning a moment later. "I don't like it."

"Why does Mihi not like his room?"

"I…I don't want to say! Leave me alone!" the blonde whined, flinching his eyes shut, shaking his head madly. He tried to sit down in the middle of the hallway, a few tears dripping down his face as he quivered and buried his head in his knees. He wanted to bring his hands to his face, to hide himself from the world, but the tight fabric that kept his hands bound and hidden would not allow that.

"I apologize, Mihi," the doctor said sincerely. "Would Mihi like to know my name, since I am informed of his?"

The blonde man nodded, looking up at the doctor with hopeful eyes.

"My name is Near," he said softly, brushing a few locks of hair out of the blonde's sweaty face, noticing how red it was—he might be overheating, so Near figured it would be best to get him changed while he was calm like this. "Now, would Mihi like to see his room? It is on the fourth floor…he has a neighbor."

"I don't care," Mihael pouted, sticking his lower lip out, shaking his head once again. "I…I want to go back to _my_ house, and live with _my_ mommy, and have _my_ neighbors!"

"I am sorry, Mihi, but we cannot take Mihi back until he feels all better," whispered the doctor, beginning to stroke Mihael's golden-blonde hair away from his face, occasionally running his fingers softly through it. "But if Mihi cooperates, we can get him home very, very soon."

The blonde man nodded, his eyes still affixed on the shiny metal buckles that adorned his heavy-duty straightjacket.

"I'm tired," he whispered, blinking slowly a few times. "Can I please go to sleep?"

"Of course," Near said, helping him stand up, being miraculously strong for a man of his petite size.

The blonde followed the white-haired doctor up the stairs, listening to the soft creaking of wood underneath their feet, eyes widening as he began a rapid-fire recollection of flashbacks.

_He was lying in his bed, the stairs were creaking as his father walked up them…he could tell by his staggered steps that he was drunk once again, which meant no good for poor little Mihael…_

"_Call the police!"_

"_Mihael, you'd better not scream this time…"_

Mihael suddenly let out a shriek, falling to his knees, a gurgling sound forming in the back of his throat as he continued to helplessly scream. His chest was tightening, his face felt like hot needles were being stabbed into every available inch of flesh, and his head spun like never before.

"Mihael?" he heard a voice say, and suddenly, he was violently snapped back to reality.

"I-I can't breathe!" he said weakly, hyperventilating inside of the thick straightjacket. "Take it off, take it off, take it off!"

"Mihi, please, try and calm down," the voice said. Suddenly, the blonde man could feel the straps on his straightjacket being loosened, and the thick material being slid off of his convulsing frame.

"Don't fucking touch me!" the blonde man suddenly screamed, his body continuing to spasm as he attempted to squirm away. "I-I said don't touch me—!"

"Mello," the voice said, Mihael suddenly realizing it to be Near's voice. "Hold absolutely still. Now, please."

The blonde did as he was told, continuing to softly hyperventilate, his eyes closed tightly as his hands clenched themselves into fists. His straightjacket was set on the floor next to him, and as he slowly cracked his bright blue eyes open, he realized that the only person around was Near—where was everybody in this place, anyways?

"Please help…" he whispered desperately, looking at Near with large eyes, calming himself down and attempting to stop his panic attack. "Please help me…"

"I will help Mihael to the best of my abilities," he assured the blonde, pale, thin hand grasping the blonde's own, as if trying to help him regain his grip on his sanity. It seemed as though it was all he could do.

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**End Note: **Holy shit....I just realized that this is my 30th story!!! *brain explodes* Lemme just take this time to thank everybody who's reviewed, faved, watched, and overall encouraged me! ^ ^ I love you guys more than you'll ever know! *sends tons of love to you all* Anyways, be on the lookout for the next chapter--November 30th, exactly!

~FragilePuzzle


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **FUCK I haven't updated in FOREVER. However, since I'm almost done with NaNoWriMo, and there's only about 6 days of it left, I figured that I should give you guys another chapter of the story I'm working on for that. ^ ^ About six or seven more days, and I should be back on the schedule of getting out a chapter every day or so. 3 I hope you guys forgive me for taking FOREVER. D: And I also hope you like this chapter~

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"Nate—or, Near, I trust you've come to some sort of vague diagnosis of what our patient could have?" an old man asked the white-haired doctor, the small boy quickly nodding a moment later.

"It was quite easy to diagnose Mihael," he said, placing his clipboard down on the desk of his superior, a man named Watari, the one who founded the mental institution. "He has a very severe case of DID, dissociative identity disorder, or MPD, multiple personality disorder, whichever Watari would prefer to call it. It is extremely rare, less than one-hundred official cases have been diagnosed, but it appears as though he _does_ have it. Mihael has three distinct personalities, possibly more that I do not know about, but I am assuming three for now. One is, of course, Mihael Keehl. He is simply a normal adult that wishes to function in society, and be cured. The second one is a young boy, probably around five or six, of which Mihael has apparently named "Mihi." It appears as though Mihi yearns for a family and acceptance. The final personality is one named "Mello." This is the one that is most dangerous. For now, he has only sworn and displayed notions of violence, but I fear that it will only get worse and worse the longer we leave him unattended."

"I see…" the man mulled, looking over all of Near's notes the small doctor had already managed to collect. "Now, Near, his personalities seem to be changing under such rapid-fire…"

"I believe it is because of the stress of switching homes," shrugged Near, taking his clipboard back from the man. "The more stressed Mihael is, the more likely he is to be prone to wildly switching personalities, or identities, if Watari will. This explains why Mihael is simply switching in seconds, all judging on the tiniest of slips in his company's behavior."

"So you're saying that he should definitely be kept a close eye on?"

"A very close eye, sir."

"Where is he now?"

"Mihael is safely up in his room. He was quite calm when he agreed to be strapped down to his bed."

"And, Near, one more question before you go?"

"Hm?"

"What caused these…personalities to emerge? Isn't it usually the result of trauma, stress, or some kind of even more serious disorder?"

"That's what I'm going to figure out, sir."

"Thank you, Near."

"It is my job."

---x---

Mihael was sleeping when Near came in to deliver him his breakfast—it was the morning after already, the blonde patient had arrived the day before. However, when he set the metal tray down on the nearby table, and Mihael still did not awaken, Near considered rousing the sleeping man…deciding against it, he simply laid out a plain pair of white clothing on the chair next to the blonde's bed. He would have to change, and probably shower. But oh well. That could be worried about later, as soon as Mihael actually got up. Which Near was hoping he would do soon.

"Uuhaaa…"

Gray eyes flickered over to the blonde, and Near watched as his eyelids rapidly fluttered and blinked a few times, body trying to thrash about the bed, despite its restraints that held it tightly in place.

"N-No…nnn…a-aah!"

One eye widening slightly, Near began to twirl a lock of his snow-colored hair around his index finger, flipping out his clipboard and sitting down in the chair he had set Mihael's clothes down on. Pulling a knee to his chest, he began to write.

"Ple….top…!!!"

More thrashing, moaning, and then silence. It was a few minutes before the blonde man blinked his eyes open to see a strange man sitting on a chair in his bedroom, clipboard in hand, his eyes affixed to the paper, as though it was the only thing in the world that could possibly bring him joy. Mihael wondered if that was lonely.

"W-who are you?" he asked weakly, his voice cracking as he pulled on the restraints on his bed. "Where am I? This isn't my room…"

"Memory loss…" muttered the man, scrawling something more on his clipboard before standing up. "Please state the five basic facts."

"Five basic facts?" muttered Mihael, his voice confused as he tried to sit up, being foiled by the chains and straps.

"Name, age, current place of residence, birthday, and the current date."

"Mihael Keehl….twenty-two…Steenwyk Asylum…December 13th…and I don't know the current date. I don't know where I am now, though…did I get taken out of my room because I'm getting better?"

"Mihael's room?"

"I was in the padded room…with a straightjacket…remember? Aren't you just…one of the doctors?"

"What is the last thing Mihael remembers?" Near asked, twirling his hair more roughly as he continued to scrawl notes on to the paper in his perfect, precise handwriting.

"I was banging my head on the wall and screaming for somebody to let me out of that room…and you did…was it you who let me out?" Mihael asked desperately, yearning to know what was going on, and exactly where he was. "Please, I-I really need to know! I can't remember, this happens all the time, one of you nurses has to tell me! You should know this by now!"

"Mihael was transferred," Near said bluntly, standing up and slowly making his way over to the blonde's bed, leaning over him and observing his every reaction, down to the single flutter of an eyelash. "He now resides at Wammy's Institution for the Criminally Insane. There are padded rooms here, if he would like one to be put in."

"Let me go, you fucking bastard," he hissed, yanking on the restraints, hissing in pain as his wrists and legs were sharply tugged back down on to the bed.

"I am afraid that is not possible."

"Let me go! I'm not insane, I'm not a criminal, I'm just a normal person like you!" he repeated, his voice rising to a note of desperation.

"We have work to do yet…" muttered Near, scrawling more notes down on his clipboard. "Calm down and Mello might be allowed to breakfast."

"I don't even _like _breakfast," he hissed back, as though saying it as spitefully and childishly as he did was somehow extracting some sort of revenge on Near and breakfast in general.

"Then I suppose that will be one less meal a day for you."

The tone Near said it in, and the curtness of his voice as he tapped his clipboard and started to walk out of the room was grinding on Mihael's last nerve, but the blonde man wanted out of this room, even if it meant wearing a straightjacket to the table. The slightly musty smell of the furniture, the ugly, thick curtains over the barred windows, the creaking of the floor with every step Near took….it was all slowly driving him slowly insane, and he just couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to get out.

"I'll be good!" he suddenly pleaded, catching Near's attention, causing the doctor to turn around—the white-haired man immediately recognized the tone of his voice as Mihi. "I'll be good, please let me out! I want to eat breakfast with everybody else, I'll be good, I promise!"

"Does Mihi promise that he will behave?"

"I-I promise!"

"I suppose that I can let Mihi out," the doctor said softly, walking back over to the bed, beginning to undo the straps that held the blonde man down. "Though, I may have to give Mihi a shot before he leaves. Is that okay?"

"I-I don't like shots!" he protested, trying to worm his way out of the bindings, wanting to run downstairs and have breakfast. "I-I don't want to have a shot!"

"It is only a small poke. It will not hurt Mihi. Does Mihi not trust me?"

"I…I trust…I trust you."

The doctor pulled a small, plastic syringe out of his pocket, as well as a small glass bottle filled with a light tranquilizer. It wasn't made to knock you out completely, and it was usually used as a stabilizer to keep patients stable that were fond of going off on wild harangues frequently.

"D-don't let it hurt," he whimpered, tensing up as the doctor rolled his sleeve up. "Don't let it hurt too bad. You only promised me a poke. T-try and make it so it doesn't hurt at all, okay?"

"Your shot is already over, Mihi," the doctor said calmly, taking a cloth out of his pocket and wrapping the syringe and small bottle up in it.

"I-it is?" he asked, his voice shaking as he opened his eyes, seeing a small bit of blood dripping out of the tiny prick-hole. "W-will you put a band-aid on it?"

"Of course," Near said softly, pulling a cotton ball over the wound, placing a bandage over that. "Would Mihi like me to take him to breakfast?"

The blonde man nodded, squirming out of bed, standing next to the rusty furniture. He wrung his hands out, nervously biting his lip as his bright blue eyes scanned the room, landing on the doctor who, as usual, was clutching his clipboard of notes.

"Can I hold on to your hand?" he asked nervously, his lip quivering as he stuck his hand out. The doctor looked shocked for a moment, blinking in silence—Mihael considered withdrawing his hand, but after a soft nod and an extending of the doctor's small, frail hand, a smile bloomed on to the patient's face. He happily took a few steps forward, wrapping his muscular fingers around Near's much smaller ones, effectively leaving them tightly holding hands. The doctor seemed iffy about the notion, but he kept it all on the inside…he had never actually had a patient—or any aspect of one—that desired his affection. It certainly was a change of pace from being pushed away and hated. However, he didn't know if forming a bond like this was good, or bad…it would let him into the mind of one aspect of Mihael, at least, possibly the most important one. Mihi was obviously some projection of the childhood he never had, or simply somebody who could bring him back to those times.

"Do you know what we're having for breakfast?" he asked innocently, clinging to Near's hand, looking at him with the curious excitement of a child going to the amusement park.

"I will admit, I do not know what is being served for breakfast," the white-haired boy said, leading Mihi down to the stairs, helping him down each individual step. "But Mihi will be able to find out, correct?"

"Y-yeah!"

After a few minutes of silence, when the two of them were almost down to the cafeteria, Mihael spoke again.

"My arm hurts," he said, looking down at it. "Where…why does it hurt?"

"Mihael received a shot. Does Mihael have breaks in his memory often?"

"I-I guess…" the blonde said, holding a hand to his head, flexing the muscles on his sore arm. "I don't remember what happened sometimes. It's like I blink and it's gone, but I'm somewhere else, and it's…it's just…you know?"

"I believe I understand," Near said, turning around when the two of them arrived outside of the large cafeteria. "Mihael…would you please answer me something?"

The blonde man nodded.

"Does Mihael wish to be cured?" he asked slowly, slipping his hand out of Mihael's own, letting his clipboard-holding arm lie limply by his side.

"I want to," he quickly said, eyes widening. "Please, if there's anything I can do to help, I will. I…I hate having…I can't have any friends, no relationships, not even with other patients. They're all scared of me…it's…it's lonely."

A look of quick sympathy flashed through the doctor's eyes, and he was taking more notes, nodding and silently agreeing with what Mihael had said. The blonde man stood awkwardly for a moment, but then when the doctor was finished writing, he nodded and led his patient into the cafeteria. There must have been about twenty other patients in there, some laughing, some blankly staring off into nothingness, and some giving others glares as black as night. However, only one other man stuck out to the blonde. He was sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, bright red hair hanging slightly shaggily around his face—it was almost as though he had a bowl cut that had been let to grow for a year or two. Mihael decided that he wanted to sit next to him…he looked relatively nice.

"Hello…" he said, sitting down next to the man, blinking widely a few times as he was completely ignored. "Erm….do you have a name?" he tried again.

"Everybody has a name, dumbass," he said coldly, finally looking up and seeing who he was talking to. "And mine's Matt. As far as you know, anyways."

Mihael could feel that same disgusting feeling in the pit of his stomach, and then he saw the world through new eyes. Icy blue eyes that were laced with hatred, and filled with lust…their want for revenge.

"What the fuck do you mean?" he asked, narrowing his eyes, his fist clenching on the table.

"I mean, my name might be fucking Anastasia for all you know, but you're not gonna find out unless I tell you, that's what I mean."

"My name's Mello…" the blonde purred, blue eyes flickering across the redheaded man—he liked his attitude. Everybody else he'd met at these loony bins were either incapable of speech, or just plain boring and depressed constantly…but it seemed like Matt still had some spunk left in him. Yes, Mello liked that.

"The hell kind of name is that?"

"A good one, dumbass. Better than Matt, anyways…Matt is too plain."

"My real name is Mail."

Mihael watched as the redhead coolly turned towards him, urging some of his too-long hair out of his eyes with the flick of his head. It appeared that they held each other's attention now, and as Matt—or, Mail, but Mihael decided that Mail was a bit _too_ unique—looked over him, Mihael felt a slight sense of pride in his stomach. He had managed to capture this man's attention for the time being, though, with the way his bright green eyes were roaming the blonde's relatively toned frame that was hardly hidden by lightweight white clothes, he began to wonder if he was attracting the wrong attention. If it was the wrong attention, why did it feel so right?

"Too bad they never let us out of their sight…" muttered Matt, cracking his knuckles as he brought his eyes back towards the blonde man. "At least they have the fucking showers in prison…they have to send me here because they think I'm fucking crazy."

"Why does it matter if they never let us out of their sight?"

"Because it'd be nice to do you up the ass, that's why."

"I'm not gay!" he protested, turning his nose up slightly, crossing his arms.

"Acting like you were _so_ discreet with the way you ogled your doctor," Matt giggled, the smile dripping right off of his face moments later. "I'm not a dumbass, don't treat me like one. You fucking radiate gay."

"I wasn't ogling him," the blonde said, rolling his eyes and staring straight at the redhead, blue meeting green in a violent clash of bright colors. "He's my fucking doctor—"

"And that's exactly why you haven't got a chance in hell with him. He knows how messed-up you are, he can't understand you at all. The only reason he pays any attention to you at all is because he's getting paid to. You really think he likes dealing with insane criminals?"

"What are you in here for, anyways?" Mello interrupted, trying to change the subject as he ran his finger lightly around the edge of Matt's plastic cup, flicking it and knocking the empty container over a moment later.

"I'm in here because I killed thirteen people. They all worked with me…thought they were fucking better than me. I just got pissed and brought a gun to work, and then started _shooting _the motherfucking bastards until their brains were the only wall decorations," he laughed, picking up his cup and smacking it back down as well, the plastic rolling along the table before falling off of the edge and hitting the tile ground below. "You?"

"When I was nine, on my tenth birthday, I killed my mom. I bashed her face in with a baseball bat. I hated that fucking bitch."

"They still haven't let you out? Seriously?"

Mihael shook his head, eyes squinting slightly…did anybody really expect to get out of here? They weren't just going to be let out. They didn't do that with crazies whose families had probably photoshopped them out of old family portraits and would, under no circumstances, be willing to 'help them on the road to recovery.'

"That means that I got a good chance of getting out," the redhead grunted dryly and sarcastically, kicking the seat that was simply sitting across the table from where he resided. "This place is shit. I've been here for over two years, now…I take it you just got here, or have they been keeping you locked in your room?"

"I just fucking got here," he said, clenching his fist as his eyes narrowed once again. "I hate this shithole. I'd rather be back at my old fucking asylum; I was there for five years, and then _boom_. Apparently, I'm _too far to be helped_. I mean, what the fuck is that? You're not just supposed to give up!"

As Mihael said this, the blonde man stood up, attracting the attention of Near, who had been sitting across the room, watching their body language as the two patients spoke. He hadn't wanted to monitor their exact conversation, as the comment Mihael had made about being lonely seemed particularly sad and pitiful, but he was ready to intervene at a moment's notice.

"Mihael, is there something wrong?" Nate asked softly, having stood up and walked over to the two of them, internally wondering why the tranquilizer hadn't taken much effect yet. It seemed as though it should have kept him quiet and sedated, in his normal 'Mihael' personality, but it didn't appear to be working…and if it did, the blonde man certainly didn't show it.

"My name isn't Mihael!" he hissed, taking a few steps towards the doctor, clenching the fabric of his white coat in his fist. "It's…Mello."

"Calling him by the wrong name already, doc?" Matt asked casually, snickering as Mello shoved the white-haired doctor against the table, his blue eyes narrowed drastically. "That can't be too good…you're losing your touch."

"Mello, please, c-calm down—"

"Don't tell me what to fucking do!" he shrieked, his cheeks an angry red. "I-I swear to god I'm going to kill you!"

"Harsh," muttered the redhead, watching as the security guards came rushing in and grabbed the blonde, his pupils suddenly dilating as he was beginning to be dragged away.

"Mommy, no, help!" he sobbed, many of the patients turning to look at the crying man, all of them watching apathetically as he was stabbed with a syringe, tranquilizer being roughly injected into him. It seemed as though the only one besides Mihael with an ounce of emotion on his face was Near, and the smaller boy only looked scared and slightly pitying. Gently, the white-haired doctor traced his fingers over the bright red bruises-to-be that Mihael had left on his neck from attempting to choke him…it was only then he realized that, if he was fully set on helping the blonde man, he would have to make a commitment. A serious one.

* * *

**End Note: **I suppose this is where the story begins to get interesting...just what kind of commitment is Near going to make~? 3 I love you people that review, just so you knowwww~ /end review whore

~FragilePuzzle


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **I've decided to just start releasing chapters...I have less than 5K to go, so you guys get a chapter every day or so! The more reviews, the more encouraged I ammmm! *sends love*

* * *

"Mihael," whispered Nate, brushing the man's hair out of his sleeping face. "Please wake up…it is time to take your medications…"

"I'm awake," he said, his voice hoarse, blue eyes slowly fluttering open. "Please…you can't just keep…giving me meds…I need help…"

"Mihael must tell me what happened when he was a child," the doctor insisted, slowly unfastening the bindings that held the blonde's hands in place. "Those with…Mihael's condition...in most cases, they have had some sort of childhood trauma. Mihael must tell me what happened before I can help him."

"I-I can't tell you!" Mihael whimpered, childlike tone in his voice once again. "Don't make me say any more! Nothing happened, just leave me alone!"

"Did Mihi's mother ever hit him?" the white-haired man asked, finally deciding it was time to pry deeper. He was now committed to helping Mihael, to being the first ever doctor that was certified to work with patients with multiple personalities. Nate had seen many things in his short life—many terrible cases, many patients that would evoke so much pity and need-to-help attitudes from everybody around them, but they had never _moved_ him. Never had _he_ felt any of that pity, or the need to help them. It wasn't until he met Mihael did he finally feel the burning desire to help a patient—it wasn't until now that he understood what the other doctor's meant when they spoke of the 'overwhelming feeling' they got when they looked at a patient.

"Leave me alone!" cried the blue-eyed patient, those same innocent and large blue eyes suddenly brimming with tears; as though each of Near's physical words were daggers. His breathing suddenly hitched erratically, and his body gave a few weak spasms before he relaxed once again. Near almost considered injecting him with a bit of tranquilizer, but he knew that it wasn't good to get in the habit of that.

"Did somebody in Mihi's family ever treat him badly?"

"Alone! Don't talk to me, go away!" he cried, tears now freely streaming down his face, his face turning slightly red as he let out a weak scream. "Leave! Leave!"

"So it was Mihi's family."

"Quiet!" the man screamed, yanking at the chains and straps that kept him restrained to the bed. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone leave me alone leave me alone!!! AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"

"I apologize, Mihi. I will stop now," the doctor whispered, taking a few steps towards the bed, softly brushing the crying man's hair out of his face. "Does Mihi not want to leave this place? I have to help him…I am only doing this for Mihi's own good. If this therapy does not work…there are others."

"I'm not crazy!" he whimpered loudly, looking up at Near with tear-stained eyes. "I'm not crazy! Nobody…nobody likes crazy people! I'm not crazy! I have friends! A girl named Linda goes to my school, and she's my friend! There was a boy named Matt and another boy named Near and they were my friends too!"

Near looked at the blonde pitifully, wondering how muddled and confused his memories were. This was going to be a difficult case, yes, but it was only good that Near liked difficult cases.

"How about Mihi takes a small nap?" Near asked, gently running his fingers through the blonde's hair. "Maybe we will make some more progress later."

"If I go to sleep, you'll leave," he whimpered, trying to grab on to the doctor, to prevent him from leaving. "Don't leave me. Don't leave me like mommy. Please don't leave."

"I promise I will not leave, Mihi."

"I love you, Near," the man whispered, his voice childish and soft, the same way a child confesses he loves his mother. "Do you love me, Near? Do you promise to stay here with me?"

Looking down, Near saw his face, and realized that he could not say he didn't love the man…it would be like taking a child's heart and stepping on it. He couldn't bring himself to destroy the image of an adorable child that Mihi projected—while he was supposed to be heartless and disconnected from his patients, he just couldn't bring himself to _kill_ a part of the man like that.

"I love Mihi. Now how about he tries to go to sleep?" Nate said, trying as hard as he could not to let on to Mihi he was not as sincere as he sounded.

"Do you really love me?"

"I do."

"Will you say it again, please?"

"Why does Mihi want me to say it again?"

"Nobody tells me it...it feels nice. Will you say it again?"

"I love Mihi…very much."

A bright smile on Mihael's face caused a sinking feeling to manifest in Near's stomach. Mihael thought that he sincerely loved him—some of that childish aspect of his personality wanted to believe every word that the doctor told him. It was as though he had replaced his parents…and the saddest part was that Nate seriously wanted to love him. He wanted to be able to give the man what he wanted—even if it was childish Mihi that was asking for his love, or Mihael that was simply asking for his medical assistance, or even Mello who was asking for a punching bag. Something about this man just made him want to give and give and give as though it would fix him.

The next time he looked down, Mihael was asleep, his breathing light and airy. As Near slipped his hand away from the blonde, taking a few steps back before turning on his heel and leaving the room, he wondered if Mihael would remember their conversation when he awoke.

Making his way down to the kitchen, trying to erase all thoughts of Mihael from his mind, Nate began to mentally calculate everything he had consumed that day—he had exactly one-hundred calories for breakfast in the form of bread, eight ounces of water…then, for lunch, he had eaten another hundred calories in the form of a lite container of yogurt, as well as ten ounces of water. He now had one-hundred-and-fifty calories and twelve ounces of water left, which would be his dinner. He could never go over, nor under if he wanted to maintain his perfect weight.

Making his way into the tiled room filled with stainless steel kitchen appliances, Near looked back and forth before eyeing the fridge and walking over to it. He pulled out a liter of filtered, purified, mineral water, grabbing a glass cup from the nearby cupboard. Also grabbing a measuring cup, he poured exactly six ounces of water into the measuring cup, which he then poured into the glass. After making sure it was exact, he walked back over to the fridge, opening it and surveying what his food choices were.

"There is _approximately_ one hundred calories in this…" he muttered softly, placing the food container back on the cool shelf a moment later. "I suppose that I should probably just measure some vegetables."

The white-haired doctor pulled from the shelf a bag of carrots and a stalk of celery, as well as a few grapes. This would do perfectly, now all he had to do was weigh them—he had memorized how many calories were in each serving of each food months ago, when he had first started his newfound diet.

Softly placing the vegetables on a food scale, one by one, he made sure the needle was exactly on the number that specified how many ounces were on the silver platter before he took them off and set them on a plate. As much as he knew that it would probably be appropriate to wash the food, he couldn't bring himself to allow the extra water on to the skin of the food, because he knew that he would have to wait until they dried before he could eat them—he really was quite hungry.

After he was done, the small boy had a precise pile of carrots, celery, and grapes arranged on a small snack platter that was probably used to catch crumbs when one was eating a cookie. Just the thought of ingesting all of those _calories_ and _sugars _gave the white-haired boy the heebie-jeebies.

"Perfect," he whispered, beginning to softly nibble at the corner of the stalk of celery, faultlessly trimmed. "And I still have four ounces of water left for brushing my teeth."

After the doctor finished ingesting what little food he had, he felt perfectly full and satisfied, ready to go add the notes he had taken over the course of the day to the computer. There was no more eating today, and possibly a single ounce of drinking water that he would allow himself—he might as well brush his teeth and go lotion his skin.

Softly humming a tune under his breath, Near made sure to wash his dishes and put them back exactly where he found him, leaving the kitchen utterly undisturbed, spare six missing baby carrots, a stalk of missing celery, ten missing grapes, and eight ounces of missing mineral water.

* * *

**End Note: **Wewt. Near's anorexic. xD Silly doctors.

~FragilePuzzle


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **I like this chapter...and I only have a little more than 2k left to write until I kick NaNoWriMo's ASS!! 8D

Oh, and to clear up a little question from the last chapter...Mihael didn't actually know Near and Matt when he was younger. Since he didn't have a childhood, and Mihi desperately longs for one, the childish personality projected people he already knew into false memories. So basically, he made himself up a childhood, and was completely convinced it was real.

* * *

Over the next few days, the Wammy's House for the Criminally Insane was relatively quiet and quite uneventful. Mihael went through his normal personality changes, Near took his notes and measured every single thing that went into his mouth, and Matt was a snarky bastard that made comments about screwing Mello every day at breakfast. Just as normal.

However, it was that day when everything changed, possibly for better or for worse.

"Na-chi, tell me you love me," whispered Mihi, sitting up in his bed. He had finally calmed down somewhat, and it was no longer completely necessary to keep him restrained at every moment of the day—he was now falling into a pattern that allowed Near, as well as some of the other doctors who occasionally dealt with him, to figure out when his personalities would change…for the most part. Mello was usually in the morning, Mihael showed himself for a short time during the afternoon, and Mihi always made his appearance every night. It appeared that Mihi had come to grow used to Near telling him he loved him every night, usually multiple times as he fell asleep.

"I love Mihi," the doctor said, softly twirling a lock of blonde hair around his thin finger, enjoying the feeling of the boy's silky locks as well as his adorably innocent nature. As unprofessional as it was, Near was developing quite the fondness for the most childish of the three personalities. He knew he should stay detached, but he just couldn't tear himself away…every part of Mihael was a mystery. It was so enticing for a curious mind like Near—he might even have the chance to change Mihael. He could mold the man to whatever he wanted; all he had to do was _work_ at it.

"Say it again, please…" the man whispered, grabbing Near's hand and pressing it to his cheek, closing his eyes and sighing softly. "Keep saying it…I wanna hear it…"

"Would Mihi do me—"

Near almost considered asking the small boy more about his past, but he couldn't bring himself to destroy this moment that seemed so peaceful, and relatively nonviolent…Mello hadn't shown himself since the morning, and Mihael might be fading back within the next few minutes.

"Huh?" Mihi asked innocently, blinking and batting his thick eyelashes as he looked at the doctor.

"Never mind…I love Mihi."

"Are you sure?" he asked, just like every night. "Can you give me a kiss to prove it? Please give me a kiss, Na-chi…"

Now the doctor hesitated. Mihi had never asked him anything like this…usually it was just to repeat that he was loved, and that he was sure, possibly to hold his hand—but it was never anything like giving him a kiss or touching him anywhere other than the cheek or hand.

"Please…?" he whimpered, squeezing Near's hand particularly hard. "C-can I _please_ have a kiss like my mommy gave me, because I can't see her anymore? Please…?"

In that moment, Near decided that even if he got fired for it, taking that quivering lip and watering-over eyes away from Mihi was worth it. So he leaned over and pressed a light and chaste kiss to the corner of the blonde's lips, feeling the man squeeze on to his hand.

"Thank you, Na-chi," whispered Mihael, an innocent blush dusting his cheeks as he allowed Near to put the mild sleeping restraints on him, blue eyes staying affixed on the doctor as he sat himself down in a chair. He watched as he pulled a knee to his chest, beginning to twirl a lock of his white hair around his finger, gray eyes traveling over Mihael's frame.

"Mihi may sleep now," he said softly, twirling that one lock of hair until it pulled on the skin of his scalp, a few strands ripping out and remaining wrapped around his index finger. "In fact, please do."

"Okay…one more time, please?"

"I love Mihi…"

As soon as the man fell asleep, Near made his way down to the kitchen, eating his nightly 'meal,' checking his reflection in the silver surface of the fridge. He slipped his shirt up slightly, looking at his flat and pale stomach, tracing his fingers over the softly rising-and-falling skin. However, as he noticed a slight bulge, he ripped his nails down the tender flesh, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes as pain ripped through him. Throwing his shirt down in disgust, he took one look at his hallowed eyes and paling skin, and decided he should probably go up to his room and apply the proper foundation…he didn't want to be ugly.

After making his way back up to his room, Near pushed his dresser out of the way, clearing the largest of the four walls, taking a projector that rested on a cart on the other side of the room and turning it on. A model of Da Vinci's famous 'Vitruvian Man' suddenly flashed on to the wall in front of him, projected to be the exact size of the perfect human model. He stepped in front of it with a black sharpie in his hand, taking off his shirt before holding out his left arm and placing it straight in the middle of the model. His arm was too fat…it didn't fit into the projected arm. Grabbing on to the small bit of flesh that hung outside of the line, he furiously scribbled at it, showing himself exactly how much skin he needed to get rid of.

It wasn't until the skin was red and raw from scribbling at it with the sharpie did he finally let himself go. Yanking off his pants, he lined up his legs, finding that he was too short to fit inside of the model perfectly…but his thighs were too big. He began to erratically scratch lines at his skin, as though he were trying to carve the markings into his very flesh—he just couldn't take it. He was fat, he was too short, he couldn't _make _himself grow. He could never be perfect.

---x---

"Near…could we go on a walk?" Mihael asked, brushing a few stray locks of hair out of his face as he readjusted his plain white t-shirt, desperately wishing for a shower—however, he figured he could take one when they got back. It was always a bit humiliating to take a shower, though. He always had to be _watched_ by somebody to make sure he didn't take some kind of psycho trip in the shower, or something like that.

"I suppose that we could go on a short walk…" murmured the doctor, scrawling something down on his clipboard before folding it underneath his arm, standing out of the chair he had been sitting in.

"Just…around the garden or something? I mean, why do they even have a garden if they don't use it, right?" the blonde joked, blue eyes flashing to the clipboard underneath the white-haired man's arm. "But could you leave the clipboard here? Please?"

Blinking a few times, the doctor turned to him.

"May I ask why?"

"I…" the blonde started, suddenly feeling quite stupid. "It just makes me feel like you're watching me just to take notes on me, you know? Like…the only reason you're even considering walking with me is so you can study me like some _animal_, and I just…"

Mihael stopped, realizing that he had probably spilled too much of his guts already. The doctor probably didn't care what he thought, so the blonde suddenly shrugged through the silence of the room, the slight whispering of the fabric the only sound besides their slight breathing.

"Never mind," he said, running his fingers through his hair. "I probably sound really stupid, but…whatever…"

"I understand completely," Near nodded, setting the clipboard down on the table, twirling a lock of his hair around his finger as he crammed his free hand into his pocket. "We can take a small walk around the garden. The fresh air will probably be invigorating."

"Thanks…" mumbled Mihael, pulling his white t-shirt down again, readjusting the waistband of his plain white sweatpants. If there was a thing he hated most about this place, it was all of the _white_. All of the patients, all of the doctors, all of the bedsheets, the bedroom walls…even though the institution was meant to be a house, the old wooden walls and musty dark carpets only made the white seem that much whiter.

The two made their way out of the room in silence, the only sound the creaking of the floor and the rustling of the fabric of their clothes as they walked towards the old stairs. It was a few minutes before they finally arrived at the front door of the asylum, the white-haired doctor pulling a large key-ring out of his jacket pocket, selecting a single key and unlocking the door.

"Ahh…" the blonde sighed, voice filled with absolute contentment. "You have no idea how rare it is for me to go outside…I can't remember the last time I got to walk around outside without a straightjacket or a gun pointed to my head…it's so nice!"

"I am glad Mihael enjoys it," Near said softly, twirling a lock of hair around his finger as he watched the patient turn his face towards the wind, allowing the warm sun to douse his skin.

As Mihael turned around, a life in his eyes Nate had never seen before, the blonde actually had somewhat of a sincere smile on his face. It took a moment for the doctor to calculate, but if Mihael had, in fact, been in asylums since he was ten, and he was now twenty-two…he had probably not stepped outside of his own free will in twelve years. The thought it itself was a bit depressing, but as he noticed Mihael was waiting patiently for him, a few steps down the sidewalk, he realized he should probably walk with his patient.

"I…I like you," the blonde man said nonchalantly, looking over at Near, noticing how cute the doctor was—it's not as though he hadn't noticed it earlier, but now that he had gotten to know the white-haired man a bit, he only seemed that much more appealing. Although it might seem a bit childish, Mihael felt like he had a bit of a _crush_ on Near. Though, it was bordering on more…Near was the only doctor who seemed as though he genuinely wanted to help him, and that only made Mihael's feelings seem to intensify.

"Hm?" the doctor asked, raising an eyebrow slightly, turning to the blonde. "Mihael likes me?"

"Yeah…I like you…not like, you know, _like_ like or anything like that, I just like you…because you're the only doctor that's actually _cared_ before….you know?"

"I am sorry to hear that I am the only doctor who has 'cared,'" the smaller boy started, lifting his arm up as though he had his clipboard before realizing that he had left it back in Mihael's room…he would have to do without taking notes for now. "However…I believe that other doctors have cared about Mihael as well…even if he did not initially recognize it."

"They…never cared about me. They only wanted their paycheck…it took almost a year for the first place to bother to diagnose me," the blonde said softly, tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear, continuing to walk in stride with the doctor.

"I am sorry, Mihael," Near said, turning towards the blonde man, an awkward silence following those few words. After turning back, averting his eyes down to the plain path the two were walking on, Near raised a hand and began to twirl his hair as he always did. It was another few minutes before they were completely in the garden, and Mihael found it appropriate to speak up again.

"How old are you, anyways?" he asked, tucking another lock of hair behind his ear as he looked at the doctor out of the corner of his eye. "You look way too young to be working here…have you been a doctor for a long time?"

"I am twenty," he muttered reluctantly, not used to sharing anything about himself. "They called me a prodigy back in school—I graduated my first four years of college at fifteen, and then my second four at seventeen. I have been a doctor for three years."

"That's amazing," Mihael said, obviously awed as he began to walk backwards so he could come into eye contact with Near. "How many patients have you had?"

"I have not worked with a patient on my own until Mihael. I usually just assisted other doctors with their patients, and helped out where I could," shrugged the doctor, blinking slightly, wondering why Mihael was so interested in him.

"Am I…difficult to work with?" he asked, his eyes wishing for the doctor to be sincere with his words.

"I will admit, Mihael is a challenge…but I do not believe that he himself is difficult. In fact, it is easier to work with somebody who wishes to have help, and at least a part of them realizes that something is wrong. Many patients do not even realize there is something wrong with them."

"And…what happened to your neck? It's a really nasty bruise, and, come to think of it, that's been there for a few days," Mihael said, stopping in order to softly brush his fingers against it, causing Near to flinch slightly. He couldn't remember the last time he had physical contact that was as intimate as this, even though it would be considered simply casual by most.

"It is nothing," he said softly, realizing that Mihael must not remember. He didn't want to bring up anything or cause any problems, so he reached up and attempted to button the top fastener on his pure white coat, but he was not able to reach it before his patient noticed something else—the sleeve of his coat had slipped down, showing both fading and fresh sharpie marks from where Near had measured himself obsessively. Blue eyes traveled over them before the doctor even realized he had seen them, and it wasn't until Mihael grabbed on to his wrist softly did he realize they were visible.

"What are those?" he asked, tracing his fingers along the markings, looking at Near with eyes that were wide and worried.

"They are nothing, Mihael," Near said coldly, trying to pull away from the patient…but the blonde man would not let him.

"If you want me to trust you, you have to tell me the truth about things too!" protested Mihael, tugging his sleeve up further, seeing that the marks and scratches ran up and down his forearm, possibly even more skin that was being hidden as well.

"They are simply measurements," he said, trying to calm his voice, tugging his arm away as Mihael loosened his grip.

"What kind of measurements?"

"Simply measurements."

"Who uses sharpies to measure themselves?"

"Please do not pry into things that do not concern you, Mihael."

With that, the doctor began to walk back towards the building, signaling that it was time to go back inside. However, Mihael was quickly flipping through his three personalities, trying to decide which would be the best to handle this situation and retaliate to what the doctor had said—it was as though he couldn't decide, his brain had never been put exactly in a situation like this, it simply couldn't understand what it was supposed to do.

"Is…something wrong?" Near asked, his eyes widening as he saw Mihael was tugging on his hair, bent in half, his lips parted into an 'o' shape.

"Na….Na…Near…!" the man cried out, his eyelids fluttering as he dropped to his knees. "H-Help m…!"

The doctor ran over to the man, pushing his hair back from his face, noticing his voice was that of Mihi's—he was apparently trying to cope with something, and the white-haired man regretted being so harsh.

"Mihi, please calm down," he said, pulling the blonde into his arms, stroking his hair. "Mihi must relax…if we are to get him better…!"

The blonde's breathing was erratic, and his body let out a few spasms before he finally relaxed slightly, nervously worming his way into Near's arms. The doctor could feel as a few tears began to stain his plain white shirt, the warm liquid soaking through the light material and wetting his skin.

"Na-chi….Na-chi…" he whispered desperately, clinging to the doctor, his hand searching for the other man's. "Na-chi…can we please go back upstairs?"

"Of course, Mihi," the white-haired man said softly, entwining his fingers with the blonde's. "We will go…come on…can Mihi stand up?"

"I don't know," he whimpered reluctantly, squeezing on to Near's hand as he tried to steady his legs and stand. "Please help me…I-It hurts…mnhaaa…"

The doctor helped his patient up, softly brushing a few strands of his blonde hair out of his face before standing on tip-toes and pressing the gentlest of kisses to his forehead. Mihi blushed a bright red, holding out his hand and gesturing for the petite man to hold it, which he quickly did. Mihael's personality that was the doctor's guilty pleasure was showing, and he wasn't going to let the opportunity go to waste—even when he knew that it was wrong, and even if it was a doctor/patient relationship at a _asylum for the criminally insane_, it practically made him a pedophile, because though Mihael had the body of a twenty-two-year-old, Mihi was probably as developmentally advanced as a five year old.

That didn't mean he couldn't fool himself, however…but then, who would be the one who deserved to be locked up in a mental hospital?

* * *

**End Note: **Vitruvian Man...go look it up, and you'll see what I was talking about. It's a drawing of the perfectly proportioned human being. Since Near is anorexic, he wants to look perfect. Funnily enough, anorexia is a mental disorder itself...it's kind of ironic that Near is working at a mental asylum when he himself has a serious mental disorder. However, since he's smart, he's able to hide it from everybody else.

~FragilePuzzle


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Matt x Mello fans...I suppose you'll like this chapter. D: But you won't have much longer to enjoy it~ : 3 I'm such a bitch.

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"Goodnight, Mihi…I love Mihi," Near said, tucking the blonde into bed, but being stopped before he could fasten the safety straps on to the man.

"I don't even have to ask anymore, Na-chi," he whispered softly, blinking his large blue eyes a few times, the sparkling irises filled with admiration.

"That is correct."

"Can I have another kiss, Na-chi? Please?"

Near was reluctant…or, he was trying to force himself to be. Truthfully, he wanted very much to give the blonde a kiss, but the more professional part of himself was struggling with the idea. For one, this was just plain _wrong_, if he held feelings for Mihael, that meant he was in love with a _mental patient_. Not to mention that he was mental patient locked up in an institution for the criminally insane because he had murdered his _mother_ at the age of ten. Also, if he did this…and got caught…not only would Mihi be sent away, but he would lose his job, and everything he had worked for his entire life. He had been studying psychology since he was twelve, for chrissakes. If he fucked up now, there would be no going back—he wouldn't be able to get a job at a hospital for a _long_ time, if he could _ever_.

But we humans never listen to the sensible sides of our brains, and Near knew that better than anybody. The brain was an erratic thing indeed.

"Of course, Mihi," he whispered softly, leaning in and pressing his lips to the blonde's, working them against each other as softly as he could muster—he was trying to make this so it didn't look as sensual as it was, to try and fool Mihi while fulfilling his own twisted fantasies. Part of him loved the danger and thrill that came with kissing the criminal…any moment, he could change into Mello and flip him on his back, take his keys, and escape. Maybe that was what drew him to the man in the first place, but he didn't know, nor care at the moment.

"MmmNmmm…"

Pulling away, Near realized he had probably gone slightly too far, but it's not as though he could reverse it now. It was best not to focus on the past, as he always told himself.

"Goodnight, Mihi," the doctor said softly, tracing a hand down the blonde's warm cheek before picking up his clipboard and walking out of the room, shutting and locking the door behind him—he didn't even realize that he hadn't put the bindings on the blonde, too distracted by the idea of the kiss to notice anything else.

"You fucking bastard doctor," hissed Mihael, suddenly sitting up in bed, utterly surprised when he was not stopped by his normal bindings. "H-how can you just…fucking do that and leave?"

Mello stood up out of the bed, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he let the blue orbs travel the room. His bangs covered his eyes as he chuckled and made his way over to the door, complete disregard in his prideful gait.

However, when he reached the door, he found it to be locked—this angered him, so he pulled back his fist, his muscles surprisingly toned and strong, especially considering that he probably hadn't exercised since the asylum before Steenwyk. After a moment, he slammed into the door as hard as he could, the steel lock snapping a hole in the wall with the force of his side body-slam. Smirking as he shoved the door open, practically knocking it off of his hinges, he made his way into the hallway. Luckily, there were no nurses anywhere, so he was able to make his way down to Matt's room freely. Maybe now was time to take the redhead up on his offer he spoke of every day at breakfast. Though Mello had never actually had sex, from all that he had heard through word-of-mouth, it was supposed to be pretty damn good—and Matt seemed like the type to know about that.

Stupidly enough, there was a key right outside of the door. Really? Weren't the people here supposed to be _intelligent_? Didn't they realize it was probably a dumbass idea to leave the key to a patient's room right outside of their door, especially when that patient was a man that had happened to kill thirteen people?

None of that mattered to Mello, so all the blonde did was snatch the key up between his thumb and forefinger, slipping it into the rusty old keyhole on the bronze doorknob. Even Near, who was in the kitchen right below where this was happening, measuring out his 'dinner' didn't notice that there was anything wrong. The only noise that he had heard was a dull crash a few minutes earlier, but he figured that was just one of the ever-present clutzy nurses that had taken a habit to dropping her mental pill trays. It didn't concern him, one way or the other.

"Matt…" Mello whispered, turning the doorknob and taking a few steps into the room before shutting the door behind him. "Are you awake?"

"Who the fuck is it?" the redhead's depressed-sounding voice hissed, and the blonde could hear chains rattling before there was silence once again.

"It's Mello," the blonde chuckled, flicking on a nearby table-lamp, casting a soft glow across the room and exposing that the redhead was chained to his bed as well, just as Near always left him.

"Mello? What the hell? Get over here and unchain me!"

The blonde did as he was told, unfastening the straps that held the redhead to the bed, handing him the room key a moment later. There was the smallest of expectant smirks on his face, and as a devious light flickered in Matt's eyes, Mello could tell that he was either in for a treat or torture.

"Come here," he breathed, running a hand up Mello's neck, smirk growing wider as a slight blush overcame the blonde's face. "I know you want it. You've never had sex before. Have you?"

Mello shook his head, and suddenly, the redhead's hand was at the back of his neck, yanking him down and forward, bringing his soft flesh closer to his waiting lips. He viciously and without mercy began to nip and bite at Mello's neck, tossing the blonde down on to the bed a moment later, a resounding creaking noise echoing throughout the old room as his surprised frame landed on the mattress, bouncing ever-so-slightly until Matt was on top of him.

"N-Nmmhhh…" whimpered the blonde, pressing one side of his face against the uncomfortable mattress, allowing Matt more access to his sensitive flesh. "M-Matt, n-not so hard…!"

"This is your reward," he purred, nipping down particularly hard, leaving sparse trails of saliva along the blonde's neck with the very tip of his tongue.

"W-what kind of r-reward is this?" he asked, fists lightly clenching the sheets, feeling Matt straddle him. Even though the blonde was slightly beginning to enjoy the feeling of Matt biting at his neck, he didn't want to let the redhead on to it…was this what people did before they had sex?

"The good kind," whispered Matt, shoving up the blonde's plain white shirt, moving his lips to Mello's light pink nipples. "Now just shut up and enjoy it. Don't fucking question me."

Mello's eyes widened before squeezing shut, a moan caught in his throat as the redhead's tongue encircled the sensitive flesh, feeling Matt bite down on his sensitive nipples a second later. He let out a hitched moan, feeling the other man shove three fingers to his lips a moment later, mouth still working away on his sensitive chest. Allowing Matt to roughly slip his fingers into the hot orifice, Mello couldn't help but bite down on the digits slightly, a combination of pain and pleasure twisting its way up his spine. It didn't even seem as though the redhead noticed.

"Heh…you're so fucking sensitive," he said harshly, dragging his nails down Mello's sides, eliciting a moan of pleasure followed by a whimper of pain, both of them quieted slightly by Matt's fingers.

"M-mm mm mm-m m—!" the blonde said, his forehead slightly damp as he felt the redhead roughly press a leg in between his own slightly spread limbs.

"Speak up…I can't hear you, sweetie," he whispered, bringing his mouth back down to the blonde's chest, ravenously attacking it once again. Bucking and squirming beneath him, Mello couldn't help it as he submitted to the redhead completely, now moaning around his fingers—his body was interpreting the pain as pleasure by now, but he liked it.

Back downstairs, Near was in the kitchen, almost considering drinking another ounce of water—he was so thirsty, but he couldn't stand the thought of getting _fat_. It was then that the doctor heard a noise…he was sure of it, this time. Gray eyes widened as he realized he had forgotten to strap Mihi down to his bed after their kiss, and he dropped the glass into the sink, not even noticing the glass that had shattered and was now littering the bottom of the steel basin.

Running up the stairs as fast as he could, he internally damned himself for being so stupid. How could he have forgotten to lock the door? Mihael could have gotten out by now—who knew who he would be, however? Mihi…Mihael…no, neither of them would have considered leaving the room. Mihi probably wouldn't have even noticed he was unstrapped, and Mihael would have just tried to strap himself in. That meant it was Mello who got out—where would he have gone? If he hadn't tried to escape—

—by the time the doctor arrived on the fourth floor, he could instantly tell where the blonde had gone, if just by the noise. The old, rickety door to his bedroom hung on its hinges, and the door to his neighbor's room, Matt's, was unlocked. The doctor could tell by the noises coming from in there that one of them had somehow managed to take advantage of the other, and by Matt's breakfast musings, the white-haired man could only imagine what they were doing.

Catching sight of a nurse, Near beckoned for her to go grab a few other nurses before entering the room, seeing that the redheaded patient was had his patient pinned to the old mattress, his knee against the blonde's groin, roughly rubbing at it. His lips were at the blonde's chest, having already adorned the previously pure skin with numerous hickeys, and he had three fingers shoved past his lips, the digits currently thrusting in and out of the hot orifice.

"Mello?!" Near exclaimed, flicking on the light to the room, watching as the blonde's face went completely red and he reverted to his childish personality.

"N-Na-chi, I didn't mean to!" he whimpered, turning his face away from both of the men, trying to squeeze his legs together and yank his shirt down. "Please don't be mad at me! I didn't mean to! I-I…it….don't be mad, Na-chi!"

"I am not mad at Mihi," the doctor scowled, his rage falling on to the redhead patient. "Matt needs to remove himself from my patient at once."

"I don't have to listen to you," the cocky, green-eyed man teased, his deep voice husky with lust. "You're not my doctor."

Near's brow knitted together as more nurses and doctors rushed into the room, speedily making their way over to the bed and yanking Matt off of Mihi, allowing Near to rush over as well, grabbing his patient and helping him off of the bed.

"Is Mihi well?" he asked worriedly, readjusting the blonde's pants and shirt, leading him out of the room and back into his bedroom.

"I-I'm fine, Na-chi," he muttered, his voice quiet and filled with embarrassment. "I-I didn't mean to…I don't even remember the first part of it, please don't be mad! Please don't be mad at me, Na-chi!"

"I am not mad at you, Mihi…now how about Mihi tries to sleep?"

* * *

**End Note: **I can't wait to get up the next chapter. : 3 It has something I like very much in it. ^ ^


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **People seem to be likin' Matt, even if he's a insane man that killed thirteen people...you know, as much as I want to go back and rewrite the story, it's already over. I can't do anything about what happens from now on, no matter how much you all hate it.

* * *

"I-I'm fine, Na-chi," he muttered, his voice quiet and filled with embarrassment. "I-I didn't mean to…I don't even remember the first part of it, please don't be mad! Please don't be mad at me, Na-chi!"

"I am not mad at you, Mihi…now how about Mihi tries to sleep?"

"I wanna take a bath," he whimpered helplessly, squirming about in the bed, as if he were trying to rub any _germs_ he might have off on to the sheets. "Will you please give me a bath, Na-chi?"

The doctor nodded softly, gripping on to Mihi's hand as he led them over to the bathroom in the patient's room, turning on the light with a flick of his wrist. The florescent lightbulb flickered a few times before turning on completely, dousing the room with a dull yellowy-white light.

"Thank you, Na-chi…" Mihi whispered, watching as the doctor leaned over and turned on the faucet, pushing the plug into the drain and allowing the warm water to gush into the porcelain bath. "I really wanted a bath…but I don't like how all of those strange doctors that I don't know have to watch me while I'm…not dressed."

As he spoke those last two words, a small blush overcame his face, and Near stood up and turned to look at him.

"Would Mihi like bubbles?" he asked, his voice soft as he pushed a lock of the blonde's hair out of his face. "I am sure that I could easily make some, even though we do not have bubble bath."

"Bubbles?" the blonde repeated excitedly, his bright blue eyes lighting up at the notion. "T-that would be…that would be fun!"

The doctor smiled at his patient's childlike innocence, grabbing a bottle of shampoo from the edge of the tub and unscrewing the cap, pouring some of the vanilla-smelling liquid straight into the water running from the faucet, causing a few bubbles to immediately form.

"Wowww, Na-chi, that's so cool!" he giggled, leaning over and sticking his hand in the water, withdrawing it when it scalded his skin. "B-But it's really hot!"

"Mihi should remove his clothes and get into the tub," the doctor suggested, rinsing his hand off, watching as Mihael nodded and began to struggle to get his shirt off. Near was only 'helping' when he took a step forward and assisted the blonde man in sliding off the cotton material over his head, fingers softly and almost unintentionally brushing his light pink nipples. The smallest of mewls escaped Mihi's lips, but he quickly clamped them shut a second later, slipping his fingers down the waistband of his pants and sliding the white sweats down. Near's eyes couldn't help but flicker to his manhood underneath the pair of plain white boxer-briefs that graced Mihi's hips and thighs, and the doctor felt a particularly strong urge of lust course through his veins as the innocent blonde slipped them off.

"Is it still hot, Na-chi?" the blonde man asked nervously, eyeing the water as though it would jump out and eat him if he wasn't careful.

"It is not," Near assured him, having traced his fingertips along the surface of the hidden-by-bubbles liquid. "I promise Mihi that it is safe to get in."

"Okay!" Mihael replied happily, stepping into the tub, hissing slightly as he eased himself into the water that was just a bit too warm.

"Is Mihi okay?" the doctor asked calmly, softly rubbing Mihael's cheek with the pad of his thumb, helping him adjust by softly splashing his hickey-adorned chest with some of the warm water.

"I-I'm fine…" he whispered, grabbing the shampoo off of a nearby shelf, handing it to Near expectantly. The white-haired man didn't know what to do at first, but then he realized that the blonde must want him to wash his hair for him.

"Would Mihi like me to wash his hair?" Near asked, receiving a nod in response.

"Yes please," Mihi said, looking up at Near with wide eyes as he dunked his head under the water, coming back up with a gasp and wet hair. "T-there you go…"

Nodding, the white-haired man began to wash Mihi's golden locks, savoring the feeling of the soft strands in between his fingers. His guilt began to ebb away as his gray eyes watched exactly how the blonde began to play with the bubbles he had made, cupping them in his hands and watching as they popped, one by one, his brow furrowing as there were suddenly no more left.

"Mihi has very soft hair," said Near, carefully beginning to rinse it, trying excruciatingly hard to avoid getting soap or shampoo in his bright blue eyes.

"Thank you, the blonde responded appropriately, feeling soap and warm, sudsy water work its way down his back. "Can Na-chi help me wash my back too?"

"Of course," the doctor said, grabbing the soap and squirting some into his hands, handing the bottle of smelly body wash to the blonde a moment later. "Can Mihi wash the rest of himself?"

Nodding, Mihael squirted some of the soap into his hand as well, beginning to work it over his body. As Near ran his hands back and forth over the blonde's back, he almost considered venturing just a little bit lower, of just forward a little bit—however, he refused to let his hands become perverted, and he just shook his head and continued to innocently scrub his patient.

After a few more minutes, Mihael was satisfied with the cleanliness of his body, and he nodded to let Near know that he could help rinse him now. As much as the doctor didn't want to stop, he did, beginning to splash the water that had turned lukewarm over the process of Mihi's washing. It dripped down his patient's toned body, leaving glistening trails of the shiny water and the few remnants of the soapy bubbles.

"Can you get me a warm towel, Na-chi?" he asked, shivering slightly, rubbing his hands up and down his arms, the air in the bathroom seeming exceedingly cold now that the doctor's warm touch was gone.

"Of course," he repeated, grabbing a fluffy towel out of the nearby cabinet, allowing Mihael to step out of the tub and into the towel.

"I can dry myself!" he said happily, walking back out into the bedroom part of the room, still dripping wet. Near could only watch as the water droplets slowly rolled down his body, hitting the carpet, leaving small wet spots that erratically stained the soft plush.

"Would Mihi like me to pick out his clothes?"

"Yes, please!"

The doctor made his way over to the wooden dresser in the corner of the room, sliding open the top drawer and grabbing some underwear and socks, shutting that drawer and opening the second afterwards, grabbing a t-shirt, shutting that drawer and opening the third, grabbing a pair of the plain white sweatpants and then setting the outfit down on the bed. His gray eyes followed Mihi's every movement as the blonde began to dry himself, biting his lip in concentration—after he made sure he was suitably dry, he turned to Near, seeing that the doctor was gesturing to his bed. After seeing his clothes rested there, he nodded happily, going to get changed.

Clumsily pulling his underwear on was as far as he could get, and the blonde man quickly turned to Near for assistance—assistance that the white-haired doctor was only too happy to give.

"Would Mihi like some help?" he asked, voice soft as he walked over to his patient, unfolding his pants for him. "It would be no trouble for me to assist him."

"E-erm…" he said, a slight blush dusting his cheeks as he nodded, blonde hair whipping about his face. "Thank you, Na-chi…it's just hard for me to get everything on right!"

"I understand completely, Mihi," he said soothingly, sliding the blonde into his pants, making sure the waistband rested perfectly at his hips. "Do not ever be afraid to ask me for something. I am only here to help Mihi."

"Can you tell me it again?" he asked, voice childishly demanding.

"Tell Mihi what?"

"The usual!"

"I love Mihi," the doctor whispered, slipping on his patient's white t-shirt over his head, raking his thin, pale fingers through his hair as a makeshift comb. However, as he saw that Mihi was getting goosebumps on his arms, his eyes roamed the blonde's face with concern.

"Would Mihi like a long sleeved shirt?"

"Do they have those here?"

"Of course…please take that shirt off."

After watching his blonde patient wriggle out of his tight t-shirt, Near walked back over to the dresser and slid open the fourth drawer, pulling out a long-sleeved t-shirt, the white cotton as tight and as form-fitting as it was on the plain t-shirt. He made his way back over to Mihael, fingertips gently grazing his rising-and-falling stomach as he ran his hands up the blonde's arms and held them up so he could allow him to help him slip into his shirt.

"Na-chi…your fingers are cold…" the blonde whispered, feeling them through the material of the shirt, even as the doctor pulled it down and watched it cling to his frame.

"I will make sure to warm them up, later," he joked, helping the blonde man into bed. "Now, how about Mihi goes to sleep for the night, alright?"

"Okay…" the innocent blonde yawned, his wet, blonde hair dampening the pillow quickly. "Nightynight, Na-chi…please say it one more time…"

"I love Mihi."

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**End Note**: I don't care how many kinky lemons there are, this is, by my standards, the sexiest chapter in the entire story. : 3 For those of you who do not yet know me, I have an extremely prominent bath fetish. I just realized I have a bath scene, in, like...every story.

~FragilePuzzle


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **You guys shure know how to make an author happy. :'D Your beautiful reviews make me want to jizz my pants. Anyways, I'm trying to update at least once a day, because there's probably gonna end up being over twenty-five chapters. This should give you something to read whilst I get caught up on all my other stories.

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The next few weeks went by relatively normally, Mihi growing to trust Near more and more, enjoying the rare times when he would receive a kiss from the doctor. Matt, who had been restrained and punished for doing what he did to 'Mihi' – nobody realized that he had been Mello the whole time – was still the same, every day at breakfast. However, the doctors could not leave it alone. They decided, mostly unanimously, that, now that Near had Mihi and Mihael's trust, it was time to start the therapy.

"Mihael?" the doctor asked, opening his patient's bedroom door, knocking on the doorframe in order to appear polite "May I come in?"

"Sure," said the blonde, a welcoming tone in his voice. He was sitting up in bed, none of his normal restraints on—he had earned the right to sit in his room without them, at least in the afternoon.

"How is Mihael doing?" asked Near, walking over to the blue-eyed man, clipboard in hand.

"I'm doing pretty good," he replied, managing a dull smile. "I've been better, but…you know. What are you gonna do?"

"I…believe that it is time to start a small amount of therapy," Near said cautiously, reaching a single arm up, beginning to twirl a lock of his pure white hair. "It will be all talking, so Mihael does not have to worry about anything…unlike most…_institutions_, we do not practice much shock therapy. Lobotomies are ridiculous and outdated…the most we can do is give Mihael the medications that are offered, and attempt to figure out what would help him more by talking."

"_No, you can't do this!" the blonde screeched, flailing desperately, trying to escape as though his life depended on it—which, it pretty much did._

"_You should have just listened when we told you to, Mihael," his doctor said calmly, a sick smile twisting his face as he began to rub a shining silver icepick with a sanitizing cloth. "Please, strap him down. He is squirming much too wildly for me to do the procedure. I may end up missing and stabbing his eye out instead."_

"_T-These are illegal!" he screamed, beginning to cry as he was strapped to the large chair in the room. "You can't do this! It's illegal! Stop, please!"_

"_You shouldn't have hit Miss Callahan," the man said, now gently testing the sharpness of the icepick with the very tip of his finger, hissing slightly as he felt how sharp it was. "It was very wrong of you, Mihael. Maybe next time, you'll think about it…well, if only there were a next time. You'll feel much calmer after this. Maybe then you won't get the urges you do. Wouldn't that be nice?"_

"_No, please, God, no!!!" he cried, feeling his neck being strapped into place. "I-I'm a person! This is inhumane! It's illegal! You can't do this to me!! I have my whole life, I don't want to spend it as some—"_

"_You don't have a life, Mihael. You don't have a future, not at this rate. You're just taking money away from the government…there's no hope of recovery for you, not without this. It'll calm you down, don't you worry. Then maybe the other patients won't be so scared of you, think of that. You're going to spend your entire life just rotting away in some corner of some dank room, with nobody to care about you unless you get this done."_

"_Shouldn't we have at least given him some muscle relaxants, or pain meds, or electroshock therapy first…?" a nurse asked, worriedly looking at the crying blonde, who was still struggling against his restraints and praying to whatever God was there to save him._

"_Now, Kate, I think you're forgetting something," said the doctor, setting down the icepick to turn and look at the nurse, setting a hand on her shoulder. "You see…Mihael isn't really a person. He might look like one, but there is something seriously, seriously wrong with him. You've seen all the medications we've tried, all of the therapies…none of them work, do they? This will help him. Don't you worry. I'm sure that he'll be fine—it's said not to hurt much, it's only a small hole, a bit of wiggling, and then boom. We're done. Did you hear that, Mihael?"_

"_Please…" he pleaded desperately, large blue eyes looking at the nurse, silently begging her to do something. "Please help me…"_

"_Quiet, Mihael."_

_There was silence as the man grabbed the icepick once again—dead silence, spare Mihael's broken sobs and whispered prayers. He took a few more steps, ignoring the blonde as he yanked on his restraints, letting out a pitiful cry as the doctor stopped right in front of him. His eyelid was lifted, the cold, unfeeling icepick slid underneath the thin flesh, going right over his eyeball. It hurt like all hell, but he daren't make a sound, for fear of the doctor slipping and stabbing him._

"_Please no…please…please…" he whispered, his hands clenching into fists as he saw the doctor pull his fist back, preparing to slam the tool into the back of his eye socket, stabbing a hole through the muscle that was the only wall between having his brain and possible death._

"_Stop, immediately!" somebody shrieked, interrupting the silence of the flickering fluorescent lightbulb that hung in the middle of the dim room. As Mihael slowly turned his eyes over to the door, he saw that there were police in the doorway, each of them having a small handgun that they were pointing at the doctor. His face twisted into an ugly grimace as he threatened to shove the icepick in further, the agents quickly flipping the safety off of their guns._

"_Remove the icepick!" a man barked, his finger tightening around the trigger as he looked at the unfolding scene, seeing Mihael's absolute terror. "Now!"_

_Oh-so-slowly, the doctor slid the metal tool out from underneath the patient's eyelid, dropping it on to the floor and holding his hands up in the air._

"_Don't shoot," he drawled, looking at them with the most evil glare he could manage. "I surrendered, so you can't shoot. It's…illegal."_

"_Doctor Henry Nichlson, you're under arrest for performing over two-hundred lobotomies in secret, in this asylum!" the man said, taking a few steps forward, completely bypassing the shocked nurses and assistants to get to the doctor. "You have the right to remain silent, everything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law."_

_After they led the doctor out of the room, Mihael began to sob, tugging at his restraints helplessly._

"_Please help me!" he whimpered, having reverted to Mihi now that he realized it was okay to show fear. "Please, please, please let me out! I-I…I want to leave here, don't let him stab holes in my brain, please don't let him do it!"_

"_It's okay, son," another policeman said, beginning to undo the straps that held the teenager to the chair. "It will all be okay, now. You'll be leaving this place for a new home, would you like that? It will be much nicer there…the place is called Steenwyk House. I think you'll like it much better there. Maybe a nice young fella like you can make some friends, yeah?"_

"_Please let me go…I didn't do anything wrong…I'm not crazy…" he whispered, his breath hitching with every word, looking at the policeman with wide, blue eyes. "I promise that I'm not crazy, I'll never hit anybody again, if you just please let me out! I don't mean to hit them!"_

_The agent's brow knitted as he gestured for the other men to round up the other nurses and doctors, all of them going into the state jail until they were able to be questioned. However, he stayed behind to talk to Mihael._

"_Now, I know that this was a bad place…what's your name?"_

"_My mommy used to call me Mihi," he whispered, a few tears streaming down his face as he sat in the chair limply, the policeman having unstrapped and unchained him from everything. "I miss her…can I please go back and see her? Please, can I go and see her soon?"_

"_I'm sorry, son, but not until you're all better," he said, ruffling Mihael's hair, as if it would cheer him up. "Doesn't she come and visit you much?"_

"_She got sent away too, to a different kind of doctor's," he said dully, pulling his knees to his chest, curling up into the fetal position in the big chair. "I didn't mean to be bad and hit her, she just wanted me to have a fun birthday party, and I got angry and I hit her and hit her until she stopped crying because I just didn't want to see mommy crying anymore!!"_

_The blonde's voice grew with every note, until it reached a pitch of desperation, wavering, cracking, and then falling out completely._

"_Let's go, son."_

"Mihael! Mihael, please, say something!"

* * *

**End Note: _Lobotomy:_** -noun. A surgical incision into one or more of the nerve masses in the front of the brain. An instrument which is, in all basic description, an icepick, was simply passed through the eye-socket and struck with a hammer when it was in the right position to pierce the skull. It was then wiggled around until it essentially destroyed the frontal lobe of the brain.

The sickening thing is, they really used to treat mental patients like that. I want to become a psycologist, so I might be able to help people without using such gruesome methods.

~FragilePuzzle


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Oh bby. I like this chapter. ; ) And again, thank you for all of your nice reviews. They make me happy when I'm all depressed and lonely. o 3 o Anyways, some of you were wondering what a lobotomy was for. You see, the frontal lobe of the brain is the one that controls emotions. If they were to successfully destroy the frontal lobe of the brain, the doctors and workers at mental asylums wouldn't have to deal with patients (whom they had no choice but to take care of) who were too rowdy or rough.

If you go to youtube, type in 'lobotomy' and the first result should be a small, 5-minute PBS documentary on Walter Freeman. I urge you to watch it.

* * *

"Mihael! Mihael, please, say something or I will be forced to inject—"

"W-what…?" he muttered, his head and body throbbing beyond belief, and he could feel that he was bleeding out of a few different places. "Where…what happened? Near?"

"Thank goodness," the doctor said, dropping his arm, which was apparently ready to inject a syringe filled with clear liquid into his arm. "I believe that Mihael had some sort of seizure…he was screaming for somebody to stop something 'inhumane.' Does he remember what he was talking about?"

"I…back…back at one of the asylums I was at…they almost gave me a lobotomy," he said, voice shaking with the memories that had suddenly come flooding back to him. "I had…forgotten about it, until now, but what you said reminded me…"

"_Almost_ gave Mihael a lobotomy?"

"The doctor got stopped by the police," said Mihael, shrugging his shoulders weakly, his breath still irregular. "Apparently, one of the nurses got scared because her son was in the asylum too, and she didn't want him to have a lobotomy—one of the doctors there, he was famous for secretly doing them against what everybody else said—so that nurse told the police, and they came and stopped him just before he shoved…shoved…"

"It is okay, Mihael. I do not expect Mihael to want to relive the experience," the doctor said, sympathy and a small bit of anger in his voice. "I cannot believe that any doctor would even consider such an inhumane treatment. It is despicable."

"Na-chi…" Mihi whimpered, grabbing on to the doctor's arm, pulling him closer to the bed. "Na-chi, they said that I wasn't a person, and that I was just going to rot in a corner for the rest of my life. Do you think that will happen, Na-chi? They said that nobody would ever love me, because I was crazy…do you not love me because you think I'm crazy, Na-chi?"

"I love Mihi…I do not think that he is crazy at all…" whispered the white-haired man, moving to sit on the bed, beginning to softly stroke his patient's hair.

"Will Na-chi help me get better?" asked the blonde, batting his large blue eyes, his ebony black eyelashes caressing his cheeks.

"Of…course…" he whispered, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Mihi's lips, going to pull away but being stopped by the man.

"Longer," Mihael said, both a request and a demand. "I…I like it…"

The white-haired doctor complied, guilt consuming his every being as he leaned over and pressed their lips together once again, the feeling of Mihi's warm, moist flesh against his own too perfect to resist. Gently darting his tongue out of his mouth, he traced along Mihi's lower lip, causing the blonde boy to gasp slightly and open his mouth, allowing Near access to the hot orifice. Slowly, he began to slip his tongue in and out of the blonde's mouth, nibbling on the soft skin of his lower lip, rubbing the very tip of his tongue against Mihi's own.

"N-NnmmnnN…" the blue-eyed man whimpered, his arms wrapping around the doctor's neck, pulling him closer so their bodies were touching. Even though he knew how wrong this was, the petite man just couldn't seem to stop, tilting his head slightly to allow himself better access.

"M-Mihi, I…I can…not," he muttered reluctantly, trying to pull away once again, but being pulled closer. "Mihi is not old enough for this, he does not know what he is doing, I—"

"Would it make it any easier if I were Mihael?" the blonde asked, his voice losing its childlike innocence it held in his moans moments ago. "I know exactly what I'm doing…I've liked you for a while, now…you're the first person that's ever cared about me."

Bringing their lips together once again, silencing any immediate complaints that the doctor had, Mihael finally began to take his role as the dominant, refusing to just lie down and let the small, white-haired man top him like that. After pulling him down on to the bed, the blonde straddled him, knowing that the door had to be locked—Near had the obsessive-compulsive habit of locking his door every time he came into his bedroom. However, that was good…at the moment, Mihael knew that even if he didn't know the door was locked for sure, he probably wouldn't have gotten up to check and see if it was.

"M-Mihael, t-this is inappropriate," breathed the doctor, gray eyes following the movement of the blonde's hands flawlessly, watching as he began to unbutton his pure white lab coat. "There would be trouble for both of us if we were to be caught, just think of the consequences—"

"I won't," interrupted Mihael, fingers teasing the soft skin that was peeking out of the bottom of the doctor's shirt, loving the sensation of the creamy, pale skin underneath his fingertips. "And…just don't get caught, and nothing will happen."

"Mihael cannot seriously think that—a-aah…"

The doctor was interrupted by the feeling of Mihael's lips against his jaw, expertly nibbling and kissing the skin there. His hands slipped up the plain white shirt Near had adorned that morning, a long-sleeved t-shirt that was similar to the ones patients worse, and the blonde couldn't help but worry—he could feel the white-haired man's ribs perfectly, as if there were only the thinnest of layers of skin covering them. However, he was quickly distracted as he felt fingers entangle in his hair, softly tugging on his locks and guiding his lips back up to meet the doctor's own.

"M-MmnhhHN…"

They both knew how wrong it was as Near wrapped his legs around his patient's torso, bringing them even closer than before, the blonde continuing to hungrily work their lips together. As the smaller man ran his hands up the blonde's shirt, urging it off, the blonde did the same to him, and within seconds they were both shirtless. Torsos exposed to each other, Mihael quickly brought his lips to Near's pert nipples, taking one into his mouth and beginning to tease it with his warm tongue. Near's lips parted in a moan, letting the flawlessly sweet sound slip past his lips, only encouraging Mihael as he began to lightly suck.

"M-M…mn- ah-…"

Working his way down the doctor's torso, Mihael arrived at the waistband of his plain white slacks—they looked like women's, but Mihael didn't say anything…he didn't mind that they accented his lean legs perfectly. The blonde was a bit nervous as his hands unbuttoned the metal clasp, tugging the zipper down a moment later, slipping the material down around his ankles. His hands were shaking ever-so-slightly, not enough for Near to notice, but enough to give him chills as he removed the doctor's plain white underwear, leaving him completely naked on the bed beneath him.

"Please remove…Mihael's clothing as well," he whispered slowly, sitting up just enough to help the blonde slip his pants and underwear off as well, his manhood giving a slight pulse at the sight of the naked blonde. His body appeared perfect…as though the Vitruvian Man itself had been used when creating his frame. It couldn't be helped that Near was jealous, but as he pressed a kiss to the soft skin of his patient' collarbone, he forgot about that for the time being.

As the blonde pushed him back down on to the bed, bringing their lips together once again, his hands exploring his chest and torso, Near ensnared his fingers in Mihael's hair once again, softly tugging on it every once and a while.

"M…Mihael…" he softly groaned, pressing one side of his face against the blonde's pillow, a thin coat of sweat dampening his forehead, causing his bangs to stick to the skin there. "P-please…a-ah…"

Nervous, Mihael reached a hand in between the two of them, feeling Near's erection digging into the soft flesh of his leg. His hand wrapped around the small boy's manhood, instinctively beginning to pump it, softly at first, his ears graced by the sound of Near's weak moans. As he began to roughly speed up, Near's sweet moans turned to harsh, ragged pants, staccato whimpers surrounding every breath.

"M-mm-mn-ah-M-Miha-Mihael-ah-ah-hahh—!"

Mihael's own erection was now throbbing desperately, encouraged by Near's moans and expressions, his face contorted sweetly, small beads of glistening sweat working their way down his babyish cheeks.

"M-Mihael, please," he cried, opening his eyes just enough to look at the blonde. "I-Inside…e-enter…!"

Led only by instinct, the blonde grabbed on to his own erection, the hand he was handling Near with slowing down and causing his whines to slip back to soft moans. After coating his fingertips with the precum leaking from his slit, he ran them up and down his throbbing length, getting it appropriately slickened before pressing the tip against the doctor's tight entrance.

"H-haahhh-ah—!"

Pushing past the contracting muscles, Mihael was hit by a wave of pleasure as he was enveloped by the white-haired man's tight passage, both of them letting out similar groans. Near didn't even have time to think about what a sick hypocrite he was before the blonde was moving, hitting his sweet spot, causing sparks of ecstasy to shoot up his spine, whimpers and moans to claw themselves out of his throat.

"There!" he cried, lips remaining parted to continue and let out noises of pleasure. "M-Mihael-ahhh-g-god-mmn-ah—!"

"H—ah…ah…hah…!"

The only sounds in the room were the moans of the two men, doctor and patient, both wondering—if this was so wrong, why did it feel so _right_?

Nobody in the large, old building noticed nor cared that they had not seen either man for a while now, and nobody happened to walk past the room and hear the moans and pants of pleasure, the rattling of the headboard of the bed against the wall, the scraping of the feet against the old wooden floor, or the clinking of chains and straps as they rocked back and forth with the furniture.

"M-MnnnNmM, M-Mi-ha-el!" moaned the smaller doctor, his nails raking strawberry-red trails down the blonde's back, a few of them dripping the smallest droplets of blood. "Mm-mhn-I-I am going t-to c-cum!"

The blonde didn't even have time to reply before he exploded his cum into Near's entrance, drenching the hot walls of the white-haired man's insides. The burning, scorching liquid was what drove Near over the edge, and the doctor released a moment afterwards, spurting his cum all over the both of their chests, the sticky white liquid dripping down their skin.

"N-Na…chi…" the blonde whimpered helplessly, pulling out of the doctor and falling on to the bed next to him, breathing harsh and ragged. "M-Mm…N-Na-chi…w-will you stay…until I fall asleep…?"

"O-of course, Mihi," whispered Near, turning on his side, wrapping his arms protectively around the blonde. "I will stay…Mihi may just close his eyes and go to sleep, I will not leave…"

"I love you, Na-chi," he whispered childishly, hands gripping at the doctor's skin, trying to grab a firm hold on him.

"I love Mihi as well…"

* * *

**End Note: **Before you say, 'ughhh, plotless lemon again,' this lemon DRASTICALLY affects the rest of the story. Just you wait and see~

~FragilePuzzle


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **All I can say in this chapter is 'told you.' : 3 And yes, I did put out two chapters in one day. ^ ^ I was really eager to get this one out.

* * *

It was a few hours later before Mihael woke up, not in the best of moods, for some reason that he could not remember—he couldn't remember, that is, until he woke up lying next to his naked doctor. His temper flashed as he realized that this man now held his virginity, and his personality was easily identifiable as Mello, smoothly worming his way out of the doctor's protective grip and out of the rickety old bed. He cracked his neck as soon as he stood up, grabbing Near's shirt off of the floor next to the bed, wiping the cum off of his chest before dropping the fabric back on to the floor. After eyeing the petite man one more time, he walked over to the dresser and clothed himself in a plain, long-sleeved white t-shirt, as well as a pair of white underwear and white sweatpants…what the fuck was it with this place and _white_?!

It was then that something Mello found _very_ important caught his eye. Near's lab coat was resting on the floor, and peeking out of the pocket were the keys to the asylum…as well as all of the patient's rooms. That meant two things: Matt, and an escape. Why he felt the need to rescue Matt as well, he didn't know, but he knew that having a partner would pay off in the end—and the redhead seemed more than willing to do the job, as well as reward him for whatever he did right. Mello suddenly felt a pit of jealousy growing in his stomach—he was jealous of all the people that had been having sex since they were fifteen, all of the people that had _lives_.

He would have a life now…he would get revenge for all the time that was taken away from him, he would make it up somehow. And this was how he was going to start.

Grabbing the keyring, as well as the doctor's wallet that was peeking out of his pocket, Mello quickly walked over to his bedroom door, unlocking it and then locking it behind him, leaving the small doctor effectively trapped. Now maybe he would know how it felt.

Making sure the door was locked, the blonde made his way over to Matt's room, softly unlocking the door after making sure that there were no doctors in sight. He had to try a few different keys, but it was the fifth one that did the trick, allowing him access to the redhead's bedroom. Inside, he saw that Matt was strapped to his bed—only, this time, there were also chains on him.

"Mello, what the fuck are you doing here?" he asked, his voice obviously exasperated, as though he were a teenager talking to a stupid child.

"I came to get you out. If you wanna be an asshole, than that's fine with me," shrugged the blonde, turning to walk back out the door.

"Well, how the hell do you think you're gonna get out? You can't just steal the room key, you have to have the key that unlocks the front door, and the key that unlocks the front gate, and where the fuck are you gonna _go_? You don't have any money for a taxi—"

"But I do."

Showing the redhead the wallet and the keys, Mello watched as his eyes lit up. They were a really beautiful green when they weren't totally filled with rage or maniac happiness.

"Un-fucking-lock me then, what are you waiting for?"

"I'm waiting for you to say _please_."

"Please, Jesus Christ, get us the fuck out of here before they notice we're gone!"

Twirling the keyring around his finger before flicking out a padlock key and unlocking the chains that kept the redhead bound, Mello was caught off guard as Matt, somehow, without so much as his hands, managed to capture his lips in a dominating kiss.

"Let's go then," he whispered, gesturing for Mello to take the straps and fastenings off of him as well. "It's pretty late, we can get downstairs without anybody noticing. Hurry up, and shut up."

The two cautiously made their way down the stairs, only seeing one nurse, who was obviously either deaf, blind, or just plain stupid—they were sure that she had seen them, but apparently, she hadn't. However, Mello loved the idea of almost being caught…it have him an adrenaline rush like he had never felt before, energy coursing through his veins as they continued to make their way towards escape. Luckily, the doctors and security guards weren't expecting anybody to try and escape, or to ever be out of the sight of their personal doctor, so it was easy to get out. Mello was the one who unlocked the front door, Matt giving him another rough kiss before leading him outside.

"Give me the keys," the redhead demanded, smirking at the blonde's complete obedience. "You're so…so compliant!"

"Just shut up and open the gate," said Mello, his voice more excited than it had ever been. "Hurry and open it before they see us out here, I need to get the fuck out."

"I hear ya," he chuckled, finding the large key and pushing it into the keyhole on the gate, turning it a second later. A large creaking noise echoed throughout the courtyard, and with a few more thuds of footsteps against the bare pavement, there was the scent of freedom in the air for the two men.

And they left Wammy's House for the Criminally Insane behind, Near still sleeping in Mihael's bed, his dreams filled both with the hazy pleasure of post-sex sleep, and the wracking guilt of what would happen when he awoke.

---x---

Near woke up to an extremely loud pounding on the door of Mihael's room. It wasn't then that he started to get worried. It was when he felt nobody in the bed beside him did he realize he had probably just made the biggest mistake of his life.

"M-Mihael?" he asked, his voice raw and slightly scratchy with sleep and it's recent lack of vocalization. He sat up, gray eyes scanning the room, finding no trace of the blonde. Christ, just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, he noticed that his lab coat rested on a chair, the pocket that usually contained his wallet and the keys to the asylum flipped inside out, as if…the contents had been removed.

"Whoever is in there, open up, or we will be forced to break the door down!" he heard a voice say, coming from the other side of the old wooden door that had since been fixed from the incident where Mello broke it down.

"Please wait a moment," Near replied, trying to keep his voice calm as he snatched at his clothes and began to get himself dressed, hoping that this was all some kind of sick dream. He was hoping that Mihael wasn't gone, his keys and wallet were just in his other pocket, that the whole goddamn incident with his patient had been a big, giant, idiotic accident.

But we can't always get what we want. As the doctor began to pull his clothes on, he found no wallet and keys in any pocket or on the floor—they were nowhere in the room. And neither was his patient, for that matter. The blonde was nowhere in sight, and the only sign that he had been there was…the cum that stained the front of Near's shirt. That, as well as a sharp pain in his ass reminded Near of _exactly_ what he had done. There was no denying this.

As soon as he managed to get dressed, the white-haired man walked over to the door, his legs shaking nervously with every step. He was going to get severely punished for this. Losing his job would be on the light end of the penalization scale, as far as things went now. However, as he wrapped his pale, spidery fingers around the bronze doorknob, attempting to turn it, he found that he could not. Mihael…no, it was probably Mello…had locked him in.

"It is locked from the inside as well," said the doctor, taking a step away from the door.

"Near, what the hell is going on in there?" somebody asked, probably another doctor that the small boy could simply not recognize by his voice.

"I…please let me out so I may explain what happened to Quillish."

Within the half an hour, Near was down in the asylum owner's office, just the two of them. Near hoped that it might end this way, so he could possibly be spared the public humiliation aspect. At least now, by the time everybody found out what happened, he would be long gone.

"I am prepared to lose my job, sir," he said dutifully, standing straight up in front of the old man's desk, feeling the still-slightly-sticky remnants of cum on his shirt, cleverly concealed underneath his lab coat. "I…have done…some things."

"Prepared to lose your job?"

"I have…how would Quillish put this…_slept_ with Mihael," he said reluctantly, his usually-monotone voice quavering as he clenched his clipboard in his hand.

"Oh, Near…" the old man started, like a parent about to chastise a child. "You know that we have strict rules about any relationships with patients, I'm afraid—"

"That is not all."

"Oh?"

Near took a deep breath before continuing.

"After the incident, Mihael woke up, his personality having reverted to Mello. In his anger, he took my wallet and the keys to the asylum. He has escaped with another patient, Matt," the doctor said, trying to hide his shame by allowing his bangs to fall over his eyes. "A few of the other nurses can confirm this."

"Please gather your things and leave, Near."

"Of course, sir."

Walking out of the man's office, Near had to withhold tears as he quickly made his way to his room. It would be one thing if he had Mihael there with him, to help him—no, that was absolutely ridiculous. He could not think of Mihael as a compassionate lover, one that could share the pain and take care of him when he was sick. That was the day Near learned to never, ever sleep with a patient in a mental asylum for the criminally insane.

With that, the doctor threw his few possessions into a bag, making his way out of the asylum and out into a world he had no idea how to deal with. He couldn't help but wonder where Mihael was.

* * *

**End Note: **NEXT TIME YOU SHOULD ALL BELIEVE ME WHEN I TELL YOU THE LEMON IS NOT POINTLESS. D:

~FragilePuzzle


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Just wanted to use my A/N to, again, thank you for all of your encouraging reviews....just got over 100! I'm so excited, and I sincerely hope that you guys enjoy the rest of the story, and continue to encourage me with those ah-mazing reviews. : 3 -so ecstatic that people actually like her story-

* * *

"Holy _fuck_," hissed the redhead, plopping down on to a threadbare couch, kicking his feet up on to a rickety end table. "I can't even _remember_ the last time I've been _outside_!"

"So I did…good?" Mello asked, as though he wanted reassurance he was doing a satisfactory job. All he got from Matt was a snort.

"Why are you laughing at me?" he pouted slightly, his personality flickering on the border between Mello and Mihi, Mihael absolutely nowhere in sight. "I just wanted to make you proud of me!"

It was now obvious that Mello had slipped into Mihi, but Matt didn't know that—the redhead had only been exposed to a light side of Mihael, Mihi usually trying to hide himself around Matt's intimidating presence.

"Jeez, don't flip a bitch," he said, still chuckling as he cupped the blonde's cheek in his hands, looking at him with those cruel green eyes. "You did fine. Christ, I'd think you were a two year old if I didn't know better…you have, like, fucking multiple personalities or something."

Mihi's smile faded, remembering the white-haired doctor.

"But they give those crazy-ass lobotomies to people who have more than one personality, so you're probably just…being stupid or something."

With the mention of the horrible procedure, Mihi immediately withdrew, allowing the much stronger Mello to take his place.

"What-the-fuck-ever," he said, grabbing a fistful of Matt's red locks. "Now are you gonna reward me for getting you out of that fucking place or not?"

"You're one horny-ass bastard, aren't you?" the redhead laughed, bringing him down on to the couch, attacking his neck and chest with kisses. "But of course…"

---x---

The white-haired doctor sighed, having had to hitch a ride into the city, which happened to be over two hours away. He wondered where he was going to go, what he could possibly _do_ to begin to earn back what Mello had stolen from him—there was no way he was going to get a house, or be able to afford food, clothes, heat—otherwise. He would have to find some sort of job, but he wasn't skilled at much besides psychology. He had planned on holding down that job at the asylum for a long, long time, but now that he was fired, he probably wasn't going to get much of a chance at any other hospital either.

Even though he and Watari had been what one might call 'close,' when the old man heard what had happened, he immediately put a big fat 'X' on Near's permanent record, leaving him out of any other jobs he could get, even if he could find one in psychology.

He was officially screwed.

"I appreciate the ride," he said, his voice wavering slightly as he looked to the large man that was sitting in the seat of the truck next to him. A semi driver had picked him up, less than a quarter of a mile from the outside of the asylum, saving him the walk it would have taken otherwise. Not that he thought he _could_ have walked to the city, however…but if he hadn't been able to hitch a ride, he really would have had no other choice. You'd think that some other doctor that worked with him would have been kind enough to give him a ride, but apparently not.

"Why you comin' from the mental hospital anyways?" he asked gruffly, beady eyes sizing Near up. "You an escapin' criminal or sumthin?"

"No, I was…let go," the doctor said, his voice hesitant as he fiddled with the hem of his plain white shirt, making sure that his small bag wasn't sliding around on the floor too much. He didn't want anything inside to break, especially not the important picture frame.

"Let go? You worked there, or you livin' there?"

The man was answered with a nod, signaling the earlier suggestion.

"I din' think they let people go too much up there," he shrugged, turning his eyes back to the road, moving the large truck with the flow of the path. "What'chu get fired for?"

"I…conducted a misdemeanor."

"Misdemeaner?"

"Yes, a misdemeanor."

"Wha's that?"

"It is when one does something that is against the law, or code of conduct," he replied, quickly growing bored of this conversation, wanting to avoid the awkward question he knew was coming.

"What'chu do that'd get you fired, boy?"

"I…had sexual relations with a patient."

The man let out a long, low laugh, one that rumbled his throat and caused him to cough slightly. Letting a slight blush of embarrassment and shame creep up his neck and on to his cheeks, Near tugged at a loose string in his clothes, ears being fiercely pounded into by the agonizing sound of the man's bellowing laugh.

"You gone and fucked a crazy lady?" he laughed, his face turning an unattractive color of beet-red, with just a hint of purple, Near noted.

"I really do not believe…that it is something that needs to be pried into," he said weakly, voice as quiet and feminine as it ever was.

"Whhell, whateveh floats your boat, I guess!"

The rest of the trip was mostly silent, spare the occasional chuckle as the truck driver would look at Near, who was simply staring either out the side window, or at the grimy floor, trying to resist the urge to pull a leg to his chest. He did, however, allow himself the simply pleasure of twirling a lock of snowy-white hair around his finger, yanking on it particularly hard whenever the truck would go over a bump or turn.

"But relleh, a lil' guy like you?" he joked, pulling to a stop in town, outside of a large grocery store—Near knew it was a produce truck, he could tell by the scent of vegetables and meat that were driving him absolutely insane, just knowing that people were going to buy and eat _all of that food_.

"It was a male. The patient was a male," he specified, unbuckling himself from the seat that seemed to _secrete_ stench, the cover dirty and stained. After glancing at the shocked reaction on the man's face, he wrapped his thin fingers around the door handle, pulling it and causing the large door to slowly creak open. He hopped out a moment later after grabbing his bag off of the floor, his ankles softly popping as they hit the hard cement, and his gray eyes adjusting to the dim light of the city.

And he was in the heart of Watervliet.

It was a bustling city, yes, but it was also extremely dreary. No matter how many people there were, it couldn't block out all of the smog in the air, the fact that the clouds were blocking out every ray of sun in the sky. It reminded the doctor of a city where there would be lots of crime—a perfect place for a movie, or a book to play out. Maybe one about a criminal and his dangerous street gang. The criminal, of course, would be mentally disturbed, but he would fall in love with either a prostitute of some sort, or maybe he would fall in love with the perfect girl—no, that had been done one too many times. He could fall in love with a member of a rival gang, but that would just be Romeo and Juliet all over again…

Near continued to ponder the plot of his story, playing it out in his head as he walked out of the parking lot, and in front of the store. It was located on a busy street, but not as busy as some of the others they had been on. It was in the ghettos, and it was obviously not a nice place for somebody as petite and sheltered as he had been his whole life to be walking around aimlessly, so he decided that first things were first—he needed to find a job.

As he walked down the street, he saw his options in the form of 'help wanted' signs, each one seeming worse than the last. First it was a cashier, then a bartender. After that, it was a part-time exotic dancer, a callgirl, and a crude street sign that specified that a group of people were looking for a girl that wanted to prostitute herself. It was terrible; the lengths people would go to in order to make a living. However, the small boy also knew that he'd better warm up to those ideas if he wanted a place to live, and food to eat. It's not that he needed much, but he still needed enough to survive.

Backing up, he stared at the sign that was asking for a cashier. It was in the window of a cheap drugstore, but just as he was considering walking across the street to enquire about it—since it seemed as though it was the lesser of three evils—he saw the manger of the store, presumably, walk outside and take down the sign. There went that job. Now it was on to the next option—he could be a bartender. That wouldn't be too bad, and it seemed as though it was a rather moderate-paying job. You needed no experience, and even if you did need a little, Near was sure he could find a book on mixing drinks, read it, and memorize it the first time through.

So it appeared as though he was going to apply for a job as a bartender. That was certainly eight years and three-hundred-and-twenty-thousand dollars well spent on highest education. However, Near was one of the few people in the world that knew there was no use in dwelling on the past—it wasn't going to help him at all. What would help him, however, was focusing on the future and how he was going to redeem himself and get another job at a psychiatric ward. He would have to prove he'd be able to handle himself properly, this time.

There was the smallest tinkling of chimes as he opened the door to the bar, but, as expected…since it was the middle of the day and all…there weren't many people inside. Walking up to the bar, he spoke to the woman behind it, who was, apparently, very busy multitasking. She was talking on a cordless phone using her shoulder to hold it, something was sizzling on a mini-stove behind her, and she was cleaning out a glass with a damp rag.

"Hello," he asked softly, looking up at her as she ran back and forth, catering to two men who were sitting on opposite ends of the bar, each of them continually ordering drinks. "I am here to apply for the job as a bartender."

* * *

**End Note: **Yeah, yeah....I know how much you're going to say, "Oh, a bartender...? Well, Near would never apply for that job..." just think about this--it was better than being a stripper or a hooker, right? : 3 Besides, he's in the ghettos now. He has to take what he can get.

~FragilePuzzle


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **People are starting to hate Mello because he ruined Near. c: But remember, it wasn't Mihi or Mihael, so don't hate the blonde as a character, just the Mello side of him...and this chapter is pretty important, because we finally get a good look at Matt's true character.

* * *

"Hello," he asked softly, looking up at her as she ran back and forth, catering to two men who were sitting on opposite ends of the bar, each of them continually ordering drinks. "I am here to apply for the job as a bartender."

"Good thing you got here when you did!" she sighed in relief, letting the phone fall on to the bar, setting the glass down next to it. "You got the job, at least for a while. I got a big rush comin' tonight, especially since it's Friday—people like to go drinking, you know?"

"I-I received the job so easily?" he asked, slightly confused. "How much am I going to be paid, what exactly _am_ I going to be doing—?"

"You get ten bucks an hour; you work every day of the week, except for Mondays. You need to be here at five, and you're out of here at two in the morning. Basically, you get people whatever they want to eat and drink, and you take calls."

"I suppose that is reasonable," he muttered, his eyes scanning the bar. It was dark inside, neon blue tubes lining the bar for light. The actual bar itself was raised on a platform that was probably a foot or so above the ground, and there were plain black, chic-looking stools that surrounded the counter. Finding his way to the two steps and mini-door that led behind the oaken counter, he made his way behind the barrier, standing next to the blonde woman and observing everything she did.

"My name's Halle, and I own this place," she said, grabbing a book from behind the bar and setting it in front of the small boy. "This book got all the drinks we serve here. You gotta memorize them after a while, so you don't always gotta check what to make every time you get an order. Fill out this contract so we can make the job official."

Near eyed her, noticing just what a busy personality she had. She was obviously one of those people that talked fast, and did the jobs they needed done even faster. However, he grabbed the pen she handed him, beginning to fill out the form and contract she had set down, deciding that it would be best to just do it now and get the job before she changed her mind.

"My name is Nate River, but almost everybody calls me Near," he said calmly, signing his name on the bottom to signify that he had read and understood all of the rules of the contract—which he did, unlike most people, who would just skim over the whole thing and sign their name willy-nilly. Near wasn't stupid enough to do that.

"It's nice to meet ya, Near. How old are you?" she asked, stowing his contract and records underneath the counter, hanging up the phone that was sitting on the counter, not even bothering to say goodbye.

"I am twenty," he said, nodding and flipping open the book of drinks, beginning to skim over the recipes and names, his genius mind memorizing them on the first try. "I am going to be twenty-one soon."

"Damn, you aren't even supposed to be in here!" she exclaimed, serving another round of drinks to the stark-drunk man at the end of the bar, snatching the money from his hand. "But just don't tell anybody, and we'll keep it our little secret, alright? What's a cute little boy like you doin looking for a job here, anyways?"

"I…" he sighed, looking up at her through underneath a veil of bangs. "Does Miss Halle really wish to hear my life story?"

"Aw, 'Miss' ain't necessary," she smiled, setting a glass back on the shelf, turning back around to him a moment later and nodding her head. "And hun, I'm a bartender. If I didn't like hearing about people's life stories, I wouldn't have taken this job. Now spill!"

"I worked at Wammy's Institution for the Criminally Insane. Halle might have heard of it, she might not have," the small boy started, somehow feeling that this woman was the right person to spill his guts to—she just had that air about her. "However, I was fired earlier today…for having…sexual relations with a…patient."

"That's terrible!" she said, dropping what she was doing to give him a hug, his body stiffening up in her arms…the white-haired doctor was not used to physical contact, that's for sure. However, a moment later, he gave her a timid hug back, pulling away and going back to memorizing drink mixes a moment later.

"So you gotta live your life here in the city now, huh?" she asked, finally slowing down enough to be able to lean against the bar, standing next to him. "Do you got any money for an apartment?"

Near shook his head no.

"You can stay in the place above the bar," she nodded, ruffling his hair slightly. "There's a girl up there—her name is Takada, and she works as a dancer here, but you can stay in the empty room up there. We got three bedrooms, so they ain't too small."

"How much is the rent?" he asked, twirling a piece of hair around his finger, hoping that it wasn't too expensive. However, he was very surprised with the reply.

"You jus' wait until you can pay for it alright," the blonde bartender said with a smile on her face. "I remember, when I was your age, I was doing some crazy shit…and I don't wanna see another person go through that, so I'm gonna let you stay up there for as long as you need. It's empty right now, anyways."

"That is very generous of Halle…" the small boy said, dumbfounded.

"You go get yourself settled in, cause your shift starts in three hours!" she said happily, waving him off. "And I forgot to say this—but nice to meet ya, Near!"

A small grin crossed the doctor's face, but he hid it by staring at the ground, making his way upstairs. He was now ready to begin his quest across the large town for any trace of Mihael.

---x---

"Ah-ah…hah…" the blonde man panted, trying to regain his breath, his chest and the old rickety couch now splattered with traces of his cum. Matt had been so rough with him, but he liked it…every second of it. Mello was trying to convince himself that the only reason he had sex with that stupid doctor was because he wanted to steal his wallet and keys…and that was all.

"Christ, you're fucking tight," the redhead moaned, falling on to the couch besides the blonde, his face red and stained with a small bit of sweat. "Swear to god, it almost fucking _hurt_."

"S-shut up," the blonde panted softly, his body relaxing into the couch, his hand clenching on to the flesh of Matt's hip. There was a few moments of silence that followed, the only sound their labored breathing and the slightly creaking of the couch as they would shift or readjust themselves.

"We're going clubbing tonight," Matt suddenly said, as if he was making all of the decisions here. Which, he was, of course—Mello didn't like that idea, but he definitely was. The blonde wanted to have at least some say in the matter…he'd never been clubbing, obviously, but clubbing did not mean sleep, which was what he wanted most at the moment.

After he and Matt managed to hitch a ride into the city, which was surprisingly easy, considering that they were picked up by a giggling gaggle of teenaged girls who were driving to Watervliet for some sort of vacation, the two of them had managed to find an apartment within the day. Ratty apartments, it seemed, were far and wide at this part of the city. It was only a matter of Matt managing to con the girls out of a few hundred more dollars (they really were quite stupid, as well as quite drunk—it also helped that they thought Mello was, quote, "A sex chunk on a sexy sex platter with sex marinade and pheromone sprinkles on top") and boom, they had been granted with a run-down old apartment. It had one large room with one rickety bed, one threadbare couch, an end table, the basic kitchen necessities, and a small TV. There was also a bathroom with a small shower, or so Matt told Mello—he just said that the blonde should sit on the couch and be obedient.

"Why are we going clubbing?" he asked, his voice still showing that he was Mello—who seemed to be showing himself more often than not, now that the blonde was living 'on the edge' with the redhead.

"Because it's damn fun, that's why."

"I'm tired—"

"Then fucking sleep until nighttime," the redhead deadpanned, gesturing over to the bed, 'helping' the exhausted blonde up with a shove. "Because I'm not letting you stay here by yourself."

As he made his way over to the bed, some part of Mello…some sick, twisted, perverse, masochistic part of him…it loved the way Matt would boss him around, to use him like a rag doll. Because maybe, that sick, twisted, perverse, masochistic part of him just wanted some sort of _affection, _or some form of _attention_. And who else was he going to get it from?

Curling up underneath the scratchy blankets, Mello's body shivered slightly, the cold air leaking through all of the tiny, almost non-existent holes in the fabric. He clenched the material in his fist, readjusting his head on the pillow, and finally allowing his bright blue eyes to slip shut, his dreams filled with thoughts of not Matt, but Near…he wondered if he was okay.

* * *

**End Note:** "A sex chunk on a sexy sex platter with sex marinade and pheromone sprinkles on top" is how I described Mello to one of my friends who didn't watch Death Note. Since I talk about Mello and Near all the time, she's like, "what does Mello look like, anyways?" ... and that is what I replied.

~FragilePuzzle


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **This is a pretty short chapter. c: Just a little insight into the Matt x Mello part of the story...anyways, sorry I didn't get a chapter out yesterday. D: High school exams are stressful/distracting...very much so. -sighs-

* * *

"Get up," Matt demanded; harshly rousing Mello from the deep slumber the blonde had been in moments earlier. "It's already ten-thirty. You've slept long enough, and it's time to fucking go."

"I'm still sleepy…" whimpered Mihi, rustling the covers as he pulled his hand to his eye, clenching it into a fist and beginning to rub at the sleep in it before turning over. He pulled the covers up around his neck, curling back into his ball, and going back to ignoring the redhead. Matt, who, apparently didn't appreciate this, took the cigarette that he had in his mouth and held it between two fingers, placing the burning hot tip on the blonde's exposed shoulder. He twisted it a few times, putting it out, causing Mihi to immediately snap back to Mello.

"Fucking _Christ_!" he hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes watering with pain. "What the hell is wrong with you? G-God!"

"You weren't getting up," he said nonchalantly, throwing the covers off of the man, prodding him with his foot, gesturing for him to get up and get dressed. "And while you're at it, you might want to put something over that burn. It's really ugly."

Mello had to bite his lip to keep himself from saying something, but the blonde man quickly complied with what his newfound partner wanted, walking over to the dresser and beginning to pull out some clothes, willy-nilly. However, it appeared as though Matt didn't like this either. The redhead came up behind him, smacking the clothing choice he had picked out clear out of his hands, allowing the fabric to fall to the floor. He then grabbed a pair of tight leather pants that laced up in the front, as well as a black vest that was made out of quilted material, a small collar around the neck. A silver zipper ran up the front of the vest, a circular zipper charm dangling off of that, which was what the redhead was holding it by. He then grabbed a white belt with a large, silver buckle, and showed him where his shoes rested—over by the door, they were large, black dominatrix boots that laced up—and gestured for the blonde to get dressed.

"How the hell are you even supposed to put this shit on?" he asked, unzipping the vest and getting that on first, it easily being the most simple of the articles to put on.

"You fucking put them on like you do any other pants, now shut up and let's go, or I'm seriously going to make you wear a fucking leash."

The blonde hurriedly began to get dressed, his hair falling over his eyes as he bent over to slide the tight material over his lean legs. He was so out of it, he didn't even realize he had no underwear on until he was tying the laces, a bit tighter than they were supposed to go, showing off the slight bulge that was hidden underneath the shiny black leather. He clumsily wrapped the belt around his waist, nervous fingers fastening the buckle through one of the holes, not caring that it wasn't tight enough to hold his pants up—it wasn't as though they needed it, anyways. Quickly walking over to where his shoes rested, it took a minute for him to even figure out how they were supposed to go on, Matt quickly losing more and more of his patience…not that he had much to start with.

"Would you _hurry the fuck up_?" he asked, tapping his foot and lighting another cigarette. It seemed to Mello as though he were becoming crueler by the second, but even the blonde's angriest personality dare not speak against him. It was as though he was the only one who could make him this way—so submissive and nonviolent, even though he was only acting that for fear of getting the redhead angry.

"I think I got them," replied the blonde, more than a hint of spite and anger in his voice. "We can go, now."

"Really? I didn't know I was waiting for _your_ permission to go. Was I, Mello?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

"How the _fuck should you know_? Such a dirty mouth. Maybe you should be punished."

Grabbing the blonde's throat with his free hand, his goggles resting on top of his head, Matt was easily able to scare the blonde into submission. Just the way he wanted it…it would be just like old times, just like how it was with _him_, that sonovabitch he thought he had wrapped around his finger before the asylum. Only, Mello wouldn't turn him in after he got sick of the beatings. He knew where he went wrong, and he wasn't going to make the same mistake again—he had been too soft on that man…he still lived here. Maybe he would find him and show him his new plaything, one day, maybe get a little revenge.

"P-please Matt, y-you're choking me!" he coughed, his voice reverting to Mihi, tears of pain welling in his eyes as Matt continued to choke him. "Please daddy, stop it!"

"Daddy?" the redhead repeated, suddenly intrigued as he dropped his hold on the blonde's throat, pressing their bodies together so he could keep him pinned against the wall. "Did you call me 'daddy' to try and be cute, or are you hiding something from me, Mello?"

"Please don't hit me again, daddy!" begged Mihi, tears now silently dripping down his face that was turned towards the ground, attempting to be hidden by his blonde, slightly dirty locks. "Please, I-I promise I'll be good, please don't hit me again!"

The blonde held his hands to his face, as though he was trying to hide his tears and protect himself, attempting to squirm away from Matt.

"What if I do hit you?" he cackled, yanking on Mello's hair and forcing him to lock their eyes, green boring holes into watering blue.

All Mihi did was let out a dry sob, still trying to struggle away, being stopped by the redhead's body. However, now that he knew the blonde was terrified, he brought his lips to his ear and softly bit his earlobe, causing him to whimper helplessly.

"I wouldn't hit you, Mello. I love you."

His voice was completely dead, only tinged with a slight bit of anger, no hint of love or compassion whatsoever—however, Mihi only heard what he wanted to hear. And what he heard were those words, those same words that Near would always whisper to him before he fell asleep. He would always tell him that before he held his hand or gave him a gentle kiss, what happened, why was he here, where was Near?

However, instead of asking the questions that were running through his head, Mihi would only force his lips to say one thing.

"Please…say it again…" he whispered, voice wavering and on the edge of cracking completely. "One…one more time."

Matt grinned, glad to see how much power he held over the boy, and a single word fell past his smoke-tinted lips.

"No."

* * *

**End Note: **I almost feel bad for making Matt a bastard. D: Almost. But don't worry...he's not ALWAYS a bastard. c:

~FragilePuzzle


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **Sorry for not updating last night...I got kicked off of the computer as I was writing the A/N. So I decided to update this morning--expect another chapter up tonight as well. c:

* * *

Mello was nervous as Matt led him into the club, the redhead gripping firmly at not his hand, but his wrist—just showing the blonde how little he wanted to be affectionate with him. However, the man was too distracted by the pounding bass that seemed to reverberate throughout his very being, the flashing lights that bore holes into his quickly-contracting pupils, the drunken people that were stumbling back and forth throughout the club.

"Let's go," he smirked, pulling Mello over to the bar, ordering them both a shot of bourbon. The blonde didn't know what it was, but as he took it into his hand, blue eyes observing as Matt drank it down with ease, he decided that he should try it too…whatever it was. With the way Matt was sighing so contentedly, it had to be something good. So Mello brought the rim of the glass to his lips, hesitating at the smell for the smallest of moments before tilting the glass and taking all of the liquid into his mouth at once. Coughing and choking as he swallowed, the blonde man decided that whatever that was had to be the worst-tasting thing he had ever drank in his life.

"Damn lightweight, I can already tell," chuckled the redhead, watching as Mello gently touched a hand to his own forehead, slightly tipsy. "Let's go dancing before you fucking pass out or something. Jesus, it's gonna be a long night for you."

Mello's hand was then grabbed by Matt, and the blonde man was yanked out onto the raised platform that was apparently used for dancing. It didn't look like the safest thing, you could probably fall off, but as Matt led him up those steps, he knew that he was going to be dancing—whether he wanted to or not.

Immediately being swept up into a crowd of bodies, Mello made sure not to become too far away from Matt. He didn't want to get lost in such an unfamiliar place, and no matter how much of a bastard he was, Matt was still the only one he had. However, what the blonde didn't notice, is when the redhead slipped off to go dance with some cute girl he had seen on the other side of the platform. Upon discovering that the redhead was no longer there, Mello, struck with the terror of the surrounding strangers, quickly flipped back to the now-panicking Mihi.

"M-Matt?" he asked desperately, his blonde hair flying around his face as he tried to work his way through the crowd, having to shove past some insistent dancers. "Near? Na-chi, are you here?"

Having finally arrived on the edge of the dancing platform, Mello hopped off of it, large blue eyes frantically scanning the club for any sign of the redhead, of the doctor, for any familiar face that could possibly be there—however, he found none. Defeated and on the verge of tears, the childish blonde walked over to a small pit in the floor, climbing in and settling himself down on one of the red couches that were placed there. He let his head fall into his hands before allowing a few helpless and scared tears to leak out, as a child does when they get separated from their mother at a grocery store. Only this time, there were no store managers or helpful workers to get them reunited…only people that were in the club to prey on loners like Mihi—especially innocent-looking, half-drunk loners like Mihi.

"Hey there, beautiful," a suave-sounding man whispered into the blonde's ear, having hopped into the couch-pit while the blonde wasn't looking, leaving them the only two people in the more secluded area of the bar. "Are you here all alone?"

Mihi looked up, a few stray tearstains decorating his slightly round cheeks, the remnants of the slightest water trails on top of those. His lips parted slightly, allowing a small hiccup to pass before he nodded. This caused the man's smile to grow slightly.

"Are you sure, now?" he asked, noticing how Mihi's body had the tendency to lean to one side, his eyes unfocused as the small shot of bourbon he had began to have more of an effect on him.

"I-I'm sure," he said unsteadily, nodding and trying to focus his eyes back on the man. "I had somebody...but he left."

"Well, where'd he go?" the man asked, moving closer to the blonde, beginning to stroke his hair out of his face, wiping away his tearstains. "Wait—instead of that, how about you tell me your name, and we can go have a drink together, and find your friend after a few minutes. How does that sound?"

"Can I have juice?" Mihi asked innocently, looking up and allowing the stranger to continue to fondle his face. He blinked his large blue eyes a few times for extra effect, really hoping that he could have some juice, just like the kind his mommy used to make him. Her orange juice was always his favorite—he would have it with toast every day when he got back from playing outside.

"Sure…you can have… 'juice,'" the man smirked, rubbing the pad of his thumb against Mihi's soft cheek. "Now, why don't you tell me your name, so I can call you by something other than 'beautiful.'"

"My name is Mihi," he said sweetly, taking the man's hand as he offered it to help him up and over to the bar. "Um, what's yours?"

"My name is Gevanni," the black-haired man replied, smiling as he led the blonde to the bar, knowing exactly what kind of _juice_ he was going to be drinking tonight. "So, do you live here? Where do you come from? I want to know _all_ about you."

"I live in an apartment with Matt," he said slowly, squeezing on to Gevanni's hand as he remembered his frightful encounter with the redhead earlier that day. "He's kind of mean to me sometimes, but he's the one who has all of the money, so if I don't live with him…I don't have anywhere else to go…"

"Well, you could always come home with me…at least for tonight," Gevanni smiled, gesturing for the bartender to hand them each a small glass of vodka—not as small as a shot, and definitely big enough to get you almost drunk. However, what Mihi didn't notice, as his blue eyes were scanning the bar for any trace of his redheaded master, was that Gevanni was slipping something into his drink. The black-haired man had a small vial of white powder at the rim of the blonde's glass, and was slowly tapping it in. It was Rohypnol, one of the most-well known date-rape drugs, and Gevanni was obviously going to put it to good use.

"What's that?" Mihi suddenly asked, noticing that Gevanni was tapping something into his drink. He trailed his sapphire orbs up to the man's face a moment later, nibbling on the inside of his lip, his hands nervously wringing each other out.

"It's just sugar…for your juice," he said smoothly, dumping the rest in and handing it to Mihi to drink. "You'll like it, I promise. You probably like your juice extra-sweet, don't you? Like candy?"

Mihi nodded softly, smiling a bit as he brought the glass to his lips, tilting his head just as he had seen Matt do with his shot earlier. Choking down whatever this drink was, Mihi decided that this was easily the most disgusting juice he had ever drank. However, since Gevanni had gotten it for him, and, in a way, it made him think of those times back before they had taken his mommy away…he began to drink until it was all gone, upon which he was handed Gevanni's untouched glass. He drank that one too. And another. And he just kept drinking all Gevanni handed to him, each small glass only taking him a minute or two to drink right up.

After a few more drinks, the blonde stopped. Now Mihi knew there was something wrong. He couldn't see straight, everything was blurry, it was like he was half-asleep and only a third awake, and…whatever was left of something he couldn't even understand. All he wanted to do was go home and sleep, he felt kind of warm and fuzzy, and sleep sounded like the best thing in the world right now…

"I don't feel so good," he muttered, his voice so slurred he could barely make out what he was saying, not that he could really hear anything but an incessant buzzing of noises anyways.

"Would you like to come back to my house and take a quick nap, and then we'll look for your friend?" Gevanni asked, false kindness in his voice as he watched the blonde man nod and try to step off of the barstool he had seated himself in, nearly falling off completely. The black-haired man was forced to catch him, his hand becoming perverted once he had a firm grip on the blonde, slipping in between his thighs. All Mihi could do was whine slightly, his brain foggy and dull. He didn't really know what was going on, and what he probably enjoyed the most—though, he only noticed it for a few milliseconds earlier, when he was drinking—was that, when he was this drunk, he didn't think about anything but what was happening at the moment. That meant no thinking about the mental asylum, no thinking about Near, no thinking about Matt, no thinking about daddy.

"Who the fuck are you?" a harsh voice suddenly growled, and then Mihi was yanked out of Gevanni's arms, and into a striped shirt that smelled harshly of cigarette smoke and sweat.

"Matt…" Mello said, the smells of what Mihi knew could be bad news driving the most childish personality away, back into the recesses of Mihael's mind. "Matt, what…the fuck…"

"Get the hell out of here. He's mine, fucking asshole," hissed Matt, his arms wrapping protectively around Mihael, showing everybody exactly whose property he was. "And if you come back, I'm gonna fucking shoot you in the face. Don't play with toys that aren't yours."

"Fuck you…" Gevanni mumbled, watching as Mello practically collapsed on to the redhead, hands clinging weakly at him to try and regain some sort of stability. "You're the one that ditched the bastard, anyways. Take better fucking care of your _toys_."

"Matt…" Mello managed to force his lips to form, the blonde's head spinning, his body becoming weak and limp in the redhead's arms. "Can we please…go ho…me…?"

"Are you going to make it worth my while? I like clubbing, and you're fucking ruining my night, so I'm only going to take you back home if you promise to do whatever I want," he said, his voice flipping back to its normal cold and angry tone, dropping his embracing hold on Mello now that Gevanni was gone.

"I promise, I'll do whatever you want…" he mumbled, struggling to keep himself upright. "I just need to…go…lie down for a minute…I'll make it worth your while…please take me home…"

"Whatever. Let's go, and if you're fucking lying, I swear…you don't even want to know what's going to happen to you. What the hell did you drink, anyways?"

"I don't…remember what he gave me. All I know is that he fucking put some sugar or something in it, he kept putting it in there, fuck...whatever that shit he gave me was is…nasty."

"He put something in your drink?"

"White powder sugar…or something."

"They don't have sugar at bars," he smirked, pulling Mello closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leading him outside. "But it's all okay…we'll just go home, and you can just lay down…yeah. Don't even worry about it."

Mello didn't even hear when Matt whispered, "I'll be getting something out of it too."

* * *

**End Note: **Gevanni is a practical rapisttttt~ And don't worry, Near's going to be coming back with a vengance. I feel bad for not including him in the last two chapters. xD

Oh, and in case it wasn't obvious, Gevanni was trying to give Melsies a date-rape drug. :c

~FragilePuzzle


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **This is a pretty long chapter, filled with lots of Na-chi... c: So I hope you all enjoy! ^ ^

* * *

"I'll have a beer for me and tequila for the lady!"

"Two bloody Mary's, right here!"

"Sex on the beach!"

Near rushed back and forth behind the bar, quickly serving up drinks to practically everybody in the club, a few small beads of sweat dripping down his petite forehead. When Halle said they were going to be busy, she really meant it—it was insane how much alcohol people consumed, even though he had been on the job a few days now, he was still astounded. It seemed as though they had more and more customers every night. There were girls leaning against the bar, showing Near as much of their cleavage as possible, occasionally giggling or cooing at him…the white-haired doctor figured they were either drunk or trying to get a free drink in order to get more so, either way, they probably weren't interested in him.

However, it was then that Near thought to begin to ask around to see if anybody knew of Mello or Matt, or had heard anything about to patients that had escaped from the mental hospital a few hours away. So, as he continued to mix complicated drinks, he began to speak to some of his patrons.

"Hello," he said softly, deciding that the gaggle of cleavage-girls might be the best targets to approach first, since they obviously believed they would get something out of it. It was basic psychology—the more people believe they are going to be rewarded, the more willing they are to tell something, the more willing they are to become closer to another person. They were the perfect targets, since they had already been attempting to get Near's attention—they wanted something, something he could probably give them.

"Hi there. My name's Melissa," a girl whispered seductively. She had brown hair, straight as a board. It was a chestnut color, going down to the middle of her back, matching her eyes, which were the exact same color. She was also quite tan, though, even in the dim light of the bar, it was obvious that her skin color was as fake as her breasts.

"My name is Near," he said, a non-interested tone in his voice. Sure, he might have been interested in studying these girls, but as for possible companions or even acquaintances, they were definitely a no-go. They looked like they wanted to get up and go now that they found he wasn't really interested in them like that, but as soon as he set enough drinks on the bar for all of them, gesturing for them to take them, they seemed to be much more interested in having a conversation.

"So Near, what do you do for a living?" another girl giggled, this one blonde-haired and blue-eyed, the pink of her tank top glowing in the neon blue lights of the bar. Near almost walked away from the conversation, but he remembered that, since he already had to pay for the drinks he had bought them, he might as well try and pry a little more information out of them…even if he lost a few brains cells and IQ points in the process.

"I was a doctor at the nearby mental asylum, Wammy's Institute for the Criminally Insane," he said, a slightly ominous tone to his voice. "Has Melissa or her friends heard that two patients have recently escaped from there?"

There was a slight moment of silence between them as the girls took gulps of their drinks, obviously trying to remember whether or not they had heard of these 'escaped patients.' The blonde girl with the glowing pink tank top was the first to speak.

"Oh my god, are you serious?" she asked, wiping her mouth delicately on a napkin, leaning more on to the bar as if that would get Near to tell her more about it. "Are they really crazy?"

As much as his job and schooling had taught him to deal with mentally disturbed people, it hadn't taught him how to deal with idiots. Which left Near at a slight disadvantage in this situation, because he really had no idea how to respond to this girl's ignorance. Taking a deep breath, he was about to begin to talk again, but the brown-haired girl named Melissa spoke up, saving him.

"I heard about that," she said, her voice slightly slurred now as she set her empty drink back down at the bar. "It was on the news, and they showed pic—"

She was interrupted by a hiccup, but she began to speak a minute later.

"They showed pictures of what they looked like…I'd fuck either of them," she laughed, probably a little louder than was necessary. "There was a blonde one, and he was cute, and there was a redheadededed one, and he was HOT!"

She yelled the last word, going into another laughing fit. Near realized that some vodka might not have been the best thing to give her, especially not when she was probably already drunk, but he supposed there was really nothing he could do about it now. With a sigh, he spoke again.

"Has Melissa heard any more about them?" he asked, his voice quite serious. "Does she recall seeing them anywhere, hearing about any petty crimes that they are under suspect for?"

"I din' see them nowhere," she said, slamming her hand down on the bar for extra emphasis. "Only on the news or else I would have asked them to FUCK me…BOTH of them, I don't even care if they're crazy, I like HOT GUYS WITH BIG COCKS!"

This last outburst caused quite a few men to turn around, and Near could do nothing but helplessly begin his nervous habit once again, wrapping a pure white curl around his index finger and beginning to tug at it. It was most definitely going to be a long night.

---x---

"Well _hell_, is it just me, or is every night harder than the last?" Halle asked Near, the chesty blonde beginning to scrub down the bar, her medium-length hair falling in front of her face as she worked particularly hard at a stain.

"I believe Halle is quite right in her statement…" muttered Near, who was quietly picking up glasses from around the bar, which was now closed. "I was asking around about Mihael, but I gained almost no information…people who are intoxicated are not the best wells of knowledge."

This caused the both of them to smile a slight smile, Near's more of a sad one than anything. However, as he felt Halle's hand on his shoulder, he quickly snapped his head back up and began scrubbing furiously away at the glass he was holding, trying not to let his boss see his disappointed face.

"We'll find him, hun," Halle whispered, a large smile gracing her plump red lips. "I promise I'm gonna help you find him…but really, you never told me much about him. All you really told me was that it was your fault for lettin' him escape and all, and you had to get him back. But…I don' think that's really all the reason you're looking for him."

"What does Halle mean by that?" Near asked, attempting to force his voice to become as monotone as possible, trying not to let a slight waver or a nervous crack in to it. "I am only looking for Mihael because it is not safe to have him out and about, not for him nor anybody that encounters him."

"You gotta love him or something!" she insisted, lightly smacking him with the towel she had been cleaning with, causing the petite boy to wince slightly. His definition of 'playful' was not necessarily the same as the much-too-strong-for-her-own good Halle's.

"I do not…_love_…Mihael…" he said, every word paining him to say, every word paining him to try and believe. He couldn't let himself develop such feelings, because then, it would only hurt more when he was forced to watch Mihael being taken away in some sort of bulletproof truck, Mihi's crying face screaming for him from behind three rusty bars that protected the back window of the vehicle.

"Then why do you care 'bout him so much? Don't lie to yourself, hun, it only makes it that much harder to face the truth. I've seen so many people come in here, drowning all of those same words in glass after glass of beer and bourbon, and you know what?"

Near looked up to signal that he was curious, and wanted the blonde bar-owner to continue.

"For every time they swore to themselves that they didn't love her, for every time that they gotta pull out their wallet to get just one more drink, to kill just a few more brain cells, to wipe out just a _few_ more of those painful moments…I saw. I saw how much they hated that, how much it was hurtin' them, and in the end, you wanna know the only thing that came good out of it? All the drinking and lyin' to themselves?"

Near continued to look at her.

"Nothin. Not one single ounce of good came out of it, and they couldn't even try and blame no-one when they saw that girl comin' in here with some 'utha guy."

"I believe I understand where Halle is going with this, but I must interrupt. While I do believe she has a valid point, one cannot lie to themselves about feelings that they do not possess."

The blonde woman only gave him a slightly pitying look before going back to scrubbing away at that stain, hating seeing her new employee suffer so much. She had gained an affection for the boy, and the last thing she wanted him to do was to give up his life lying to himself about his feelings for this mysterious mental patient named 'Mihael.'

"Sorry for pryin' hun," she said a moment later, deciding that the stain was out and gone enough. "Now, you want somethin' to eat? I'm probably gonna cook Takada and I something, so if you want, I can just grab you somethin' too…it ain't no trouble, and I ain't hardly seen you eat anything…"

"I am fine," Near said stiffly, putting the last glass into place, back on the shelf, admiring his work for the merest of moments before taking a step away from the bar, setting the dishrag he had been using to clean the glasses down in the sink behind him.

"But hun, really, I haven't seen you eat almost nothin' and I know that you haven't gone out to eat, because I know exactly what happens to your paycheck, and there ain't nothing missing from the fridge that Takada and I didn't eat…so that means you ain't eaten hardly nothing since you got here a few days ago—"

"I insist that I am _not hungry_," said the ex-doctor, probably a bit too harshly as he took one look at Halle, making his way over to the stairs that led up to the living quarters of the building. Quickly making his way up them, small feet and light frame hardly making any noise, Near was out of Halle's sight in mere moments.

"But hun…you're so thin…" she sighed, defeated, having almost put two and two together. Near didn't eat, and he looked like he had dropped a few pounds within the last couple of days…he was always so worried about his body, Halle would sometimes see him in the bathroom, or in his room, just measuring himself and becoming frustrated when it wasn't exactly as he wanted it.

But Near had told her not to pry, so all the blonde did was make a mental note, stowing away a small memo in the back of her brain—she needed to check up on Near's almost nonexistent eating habits.

* * *

**End Note: **-gasp- Has Halle discovered Near's secret? -play epic music- Until next time, folks! xD

~FragilePuzzle


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **Oh shit. . ___ . I forgot to update this story. How bad is that? xD Anyways, thank saaayuuuriii for the update. She's like, "I WAS EXPECTING DAILY UPDATES, BIOTCH" only she didn't say it anything like that. xD She's actually nice and considerate, unlike me. Well, enjoy!

* * *

"Mello, what the fuck are you doing?" Matt asked, hatred in his voice as he heard the blonde's soft footsteps in the kitchen. His green eyes narrowed as they stopped, and it took Mello a moment to speak up.

"I was just getting some food, I'm…hungry!" he said, having to restrain himself from swearing around Matt. The redhead didn't like attitude…not one bit. He especially didn't like it when Mello gave him attitude—the blonde had quickly learned that.

"Did I say that you could eat?" asked the redhead, the couch creaking as he stood up, the pocket knife he had been digging underneath his nails with a moment earlier flicking ominously in and out of its holster. Mello saw this from where he stood, and he quickly shut the fridge, having to remind himself that Matt loved him, that Matt was the only one he had, that Matt was only worried about him for his own good, that Matt was only so possessive because he wanted Mello to be the best he could be.

"No…you didn't…" he said, personalities flickering on the brim between Mihi and Mello—Mihael still hadn't shown himself, which only went to show any outsider that this situation was worse than it appeared. The blonde's normal personality was nowhere to be found, not in this time of darkness.

"Mello…Mello…Mello…what ever happened to your flame?" the redhead suddenly asked, shoving the blonde down on to the hard, tile floor now that he had reached him, standing tall above him. "The Mello I knew would have told me to 'fuck off, he was hungry.' Are you scared, Mello? Did you break so easily? I thought you would have been stronger, like any normal person. But that's right…you're not normal, are you? You're not like all of those other shiny, plastic _dolls_ that walk around on the streets out there, are you?"

"Shiny…plastic dolls?" Mihi repeated, chewing furiously away on his lower lip now, hair slightly askew.

"That's all people are, Mello. They're nothing more than dolls, no more precious, their bodies are of no more worth, there's no _life_ in people. They're only made for me to play with, I'm the only one that matters. I'm like God, Mello, and I can pick who lives and who dies. Do you understand?"

Mihi nodded, now extremely terrified…the tone in Matt's voice was absolute, his eyes screamed rage, and the way he would continually slide the sharp blade in and out of its plastic holder was making Mihi jump with every step he took. The redhead had never been like this before…sure, he had been scary—really fucking terrifying—but he had never said anything like this before, never said anything that sounded so…_crazy_, and Mihi was not the one that wanted to have to deal with him.

"Now Mello, do you think I should let you live, or do you think I should let you die?" he asked maliciously, spite winding its way through every word he spoke, his finger no longer flicking the blade back in, but leaving it out. Fully extended, the eight-inch knife was shining and glinting, holding Mihi's attention, his pupils contracting as he remembered those exact words.

"_Mihael, do you think your daddy should let you live, or you think your daddy should tear out your little pussy-boy throat?" the blonde's father asked, a glinting knife in his hand, his eyes furiously affixed on the small, shivering, crying boy in the corner He was backed up against the cupboards in the kitchen, his knees pulled to his chest, his blue eyes meeting his father's own glinting, drunken ones._

_The only sound that echoed through the tiles of the kitchen were hiccups and sobs._

"_Answer me, you good-for-nothing useless fucking accident!" he roared, setting the knife down on the counter and gripping Mihael's golden locks in his fist, firmly yanking on them, forcing their eyes to meet. "Answer me fucking NOW!"_

"_Please daddy, please no, please don't hurt me…" he sobbed helplessly, trying to back up further away from his brunette father, only being able to allow his sock feet to helplessly slide along the floor—there was nowhere else to go, no matter how he tried to push, his back would hit nothing but the wooden cupboards._

"_Why shouldn't I hurt you?" he asked, taking Mihael's head and firmly slamming it up against those same wooden counters, causing a pained cry to escape past his petite lips. However, Mihael dare not speak again, he couldn't, he knew what would happen if he did._

"_You're a fucking waste!" he repeated, bashing his son's head into the counters again, this time causing him to split his lip, blood trickling out of his mouth where the small blonde boy was sure he had bitten off a part of his tongue. "You stupid fuck, you were a fucking accident, I told your mother she should have fucking aborted you!"_

_Mihael let a few more tears stream down his face, these more from emotional hurt than physical. He sometimes wished he had been aborted, no matter how much the cross on the rosary he always wore around his neck told him that was wrong. _

"_You're not even a fucking boy, you look like a goddamn cunt!" he hissed, finally letting Mihael go, sadistically smirking as he saw the blood running out of his son's mouth, the deep gash on his lip where it had split—it was probably going to need stitches, and serious ones at that. "You're a fucking pussy. At least, if you were a girl, you'd have a fucking cunt and be able to get something for your fucking self."_

_Mihael only continued to softly cry, allowing his clothes to become stained with the blood that was dripping from his lip, occasionally spitting out a small bit metallic-tasting saliva, but being careful not to get so much as a drip on the floor. Mommy couldn't see that he stained the floor, or she might get upset and know that daddy hit him again for being so useless and stupid and ugly…so then daddy would hit her for trying to talk to him about it, and trying to protect him._

_He daren't even think he hated daddy._

"_Honey?" Mihael heard his mommy say. She was on the other side of the counter, she didn't know where he was now, and as long as she didn't see him, she wouldn't get hurt later tonight. Sometimes he could hear screaming and loud thumps from next door, since his room was right next to his mommy and daddy's bedroom, but he never asked about them. That might get him or mommy hurt even worse._

_Covering his mouth to try and quiet his pained breathing, Mihael waited until he heard daddy flush the toilet and walk out of the bathroom, and then mommy's feet were walking over to him and they were hugging. Mihael hated the thought of his daddy's arms around his mommy. His daddy always said he should be more grateful, and that without him, Mihael wouldn't have even been born into this world…but like Mihael thought earlier, he thought naughty, dirty thoughts that were the devil in his head. _

_That's what daddy told him when he yelled it out one time, he had yelled out that five years were enough, that he just wanted his daddy to smash his face in and kill him already. His daddy had said that was the devil. There was the devil inside of his head, he wanted the devil out, but he was always there._

_As he heard more footsteps, five-year-old Mihael could do nothing but curl himself up smaller, his hands still pressed firmly over his lips, hot blood staining the soft skin of his palms. He wanted to let out a whimper, a pained cry, something, anything to let his mommy know that he needed her help…but he was silent. Daddy said that he was gonna kill him, if that was what he really wanted. But he knew, even with the devil in his head, he knew that he had to stay alive to protect his mommy. She needed it bad._

"_Light, is something wrong?" he heard his mommy say._

"_Of course not, Misa," his daddy replied. And then there was silence._

"A-aaaahhah!!!" Mihi screamed, throwing his hands over his ears, closing his eyes and quickly trying to squirm away from Matt. He could feel a panic attack coming on, there were those hot needles poking into his skin, he couldn't breathe, he had to run faster or daddy was going to get him, he was going to get him, he was going to get him and mommy and kill them both!

"You, Mello, you're not a shiny plastic doll!" Matt cackled, firmly gripping the blonde's ankle, yanking him back along the floor, back towards him. "You're a broken, ratty, lump of shit! You're not like all of the other dolls, you're not normal, that's what makes you so much fun to play with!"

All Mihi could do was let out a soft, helpless cry, feeling Matt flip him over and straddle him so they were on the ground, Mihi on his back and Matt on top of him.

"No, Mello…you're special…I love you," he chuckled, tracing the knife along Mihi's lips, his voice showing no hint of love or compassion whatsoever. "I love you so much, Mello. You're going to stay with me forever, aren't you?"

Mihi nodded, continuing to cry helplessly, tears streaming down his face. Who was he to object?

* * *

**End Note: **Oh snap, possessive Matt! And Mello's past is revealed more! And....this chapter was pretty fail, other than that. u__u Whatever. Hope you liked it anyways, and feel free to leave angry reviews/send me angry PMs if I don't update more often. xD Now you know about Matt's mental condition.

~FragilePuzzle


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **OKAY GAIS STFU. : l No, I'm joking, but I can't really make Near suddenly POOF find Mello. xD He's working his pale little booty away, and I already have the story all written out. So you just have to wait for the good part. I promise the ending will be worth it, though~

* * *

"Mello, get out here!" Matt said, a surprisingly happy tone in his voice—however, what was happy for the redhead might not be exactly what others considered happy. However, all that Mello cared about was that Matt was in a better mood. The blonde didn't remember what had happened with Mihi a few days prior. He didn't remember the flashbacks, the crazed rant, the fact that Matt now believed he owned Mello completely…no, he didn't remember that, but as long as Matt was in a good mood, it didn't even matter to him.

"What…do you want?" he asked, a slight but of malice in his voice, his spirit not entirely submissive.

"You're gonna do something for me," he chuckled, handing the blonde a piece of paper, kicking his feet up on to the end table and lighting a cigarette, putting in between his lips and inhaling deeply before looking back up at Mello.

"What's this for?" the blonde questioned bitterly, not wanting to have to run errands for the redhead, yet some part of him enjoying how Matt depended on him to do this, how he bossed him around like he owned him…the feelings were so conflicting, yet they were both a part of him. It was all he could do not to question his own sanity.

"There's some fucker who's always standing in the alley by that corner. I was talking to this one girl at a club we went to a few nights ago, and she told me about him. He has some…special things that I want. He's gonna have a bag on him. I want you to beat him up and steal it."

"What?!" the blonde exclaimed, nearly tossing the address on the floor before seeing the look in the redhead's eyes…it wasn't going to be pretty for him unless he did this, he could already tell.

"I want you to go down there, beat the fuck out of him, and steal whatever he has on him," Matt repeated dully, staring at Mello before lifting his feet off of the table and standing up. "He should have bags filled with white stuff. Go get me as much of it as you can, and be fucking fast about it."

"W-what if I get caught?" he asked, looking at Matt with wide, nervous eyes as the redhead advanced towards him a few steps. "I mean, this is _wrong_, Matt, really, really _wrong_, you don't even—"

"If you get caught, you run," he said simply, taking another step towards the blonde, running his gloved hand down the blonde's soft cheek. "I love you, Mello. Thank you for doing this for me…I'll reward you. I know you'll like it."

Mello hesitated a second— just for a second, before nodding. If Matt wanted him to do it…he should. Matt knew what was best for them, Matt loved him, he just said so. Matt loved him, and wanted to reward him for doing this…if he did this, Matt would love him even more. That was what he wanted, right?

"You'll do it?" he asked, continuing to caress the blonde's cheek, a sincere sparkle in his eyes—well, as sincere as Mello could imagine it to be.

"I'll do it," repeated Mello, nodding before taking another look at the address, pulling away from Matt and walking over to the door. He slipped his black shoes on…they would probably be the easiest to run in. He already had a plain gray hoodie on over a plain white shirt, and a pair of black jogging pants that covered his legs comfortably. He could do this, he would make Matt proud.

"Hurry up, though," the redhead added, watching as his blonde puppet went out the front door, his eyes still as wide and nervous as ever as he turned to look at Matt one last time. A twisted smirk worked its way on to his face as he sat back down on the couch, lighting up another smoke and waiting for the blonde's return.

---x---

Mello was almost at the address, and he could not remember a time when he had been more scared in his life. The most violent of the three personalities didn't remember his childhood, of course, but even if it was Mihi that had been tasked to do this, it was doubtful that the childish boy could think of many times scarier than this.

It was then that Mello spotted him—the man that Matt wanted him to beat up and steal from. It didn't look like it would be a very hard job, he was actually quite weak looking. He was a thin man with dirty tangled hair, as well as a pair of glasses that rested over his eyes. They were broken in half, many layers of tape wrapped around the brim of the nose, and he was just generally a very mousy-looking person. However, this was good for Mello…the blonde had been terrified that he would be a muscular man that would snap his neck and eat him for a midday snack.

"Hey," he said coolly, walking up to him, looking back and forth to make sure there were no people around before gesturing for the man to follow him back further into the alley he had been casually standing in front of a moment earlier.

"You a cop?" he asked, his voice as nasally with the smallest hint of roughness to it.

"No I'm not a cop, dumbass," he said, his 'Mello' flare back in him now that he wasn't around the redheaded tyrant he was doing this for. "I want what you fucking got. All of it."

"You wanna buy my entire supply, man?" he asked, his eyes widening as he thought of all the dough that would cost his apparently-rich customer. "You know how expensive 'dats gonna be, right?"

"Yeah, I know, how the fuck would I not know? Now shut the hell up and give me it all before I fucking kick your nuts in."

The man speedily complied, obviously not wanting his nuts kicked in. He handed Mello a large brown bag that must have been about two or three _pounds_ of whatever white powder was inside, holding out his hands a moment later, like a beggar to a king, expecting to be paid for all of the precious drugs he had just given the blonde man. The only payment he got was a punch to the face, a kick in the groin, and a faceplant into the ground. As soon as he was down, Mello began to kick him—in the stomach, in the face, just _kicking_ wherever he could reach. All of that pent up anger that had been building the whole time he had been with Matt was finally finding a way to release itself.

That was about when he heard the sirens.

"Oh fuck!" he suddenly cried, terror and adrenaline pumping through his veins as he saw police cars drive past the entrance to the alley once, twice, three times, stopping a second later. He was paralyzed as he saw a man dressed in uniform, a gun in hand, come running down the alley—if he hadn't made the skinny man move further down the alley, he would be dead by now, or at least caught.

He'd rather be dead.

Suddenly, Mello began to see this as a game. And these stupid policemen were just the pawns. He began to run, his hood flying off his head, not even caring that the policeman had gotten a clear look at his face. It was all a big game, now. The thought of this caused a laugh to slip past Mello's lips, and he clutched the precious bag Matt had trusted him in getting closer to his chest, picking up the pace, his feet absolutely pounding against the hardness of the asphalt now.

Fuck, this was the most fun he had had in his entire life. As he continued to run, eventually throwing off the one idiot policeman that was actually capable of following him, more exhilarated laughs flew past his lips, more and more following, until he was laughing like a madman, just running with the drugs Matt had entrusted him to bring back.

Whether he wanted to or not, he was beginning to see this as Matt saw it. Nothing more than a game.

* * *

**End Note: **Kinda a short chapter…but this way, I can get them out to you faster. I know I don't have to write them, but I have to proof them and all, so it's kind of a pain. xD Anyways, you gotta expect more story. This thing is over 50k, after all.

~FragilePuzzle


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **GAH happy birthday Mello. c: Love youuuuuuuu~ But shit, I just realized I've barely been writing lately...damn depression. D:

* * *

Near was sitting downstairs at the bar, twirling a lock of hair around his thin index finger, gray eyes staring at nothing in particular—that was when it happened. The ten-o-clock morning news was on one of the bar TVs…there was nobody in there yet, of course, neither Halle nor Takada was up, so Near was able to chose the channel of his liking. However, the news wasn't particularly interesting. Not until an urgent announcement popped on to the screen, even the anchor looking like he was making up the script as he went.

"Excuse me folks, but we have an urgent announcement. Yesterday, there was an on-foot chase that involved a single policeman and an escaped mental patient—his name is Mihael Keehl, but he is also known to go by 'Mello' or 'Mihi.' Apparently, he beat up a drug dealer, stealing all of the heroin the man had on him, and ran from the police. He is _very _dangerous.......now wait just a minute; it appears as though we have the very policeman that chased Mihael down with us right now. Tell us, sir; what are Mr. Keehl's identifying characteristics?"

"I was chasing him, and he had a hood on!" the man exclaimed, as though it was the most amazing thing in the world—however, Near was sitting on the edge of his seat, clinging to every word, desperate for any lead on Mihael. "But his hood came off! And I saw that he had a blonde bob cut, it was pretty girly if you ask me, but who am I to judge?! Anyways, I saw his blonde hair, and he has blue eyes as well, I could see them staring right at me—that was when I knew he was a killer, no normal person has those eyes!"

"Bullshit!" Near suddenly yelled, a rage filling in him like one had never before. "That is absolutely ridiculous! Mihael is not a killer!"

Near almost considered throwing the carrot he had been eating at the TV, but he knew that it would do two things he didn't want—it would mean that he hadn't had his exact amount of calories, and it would probably damage the TV…which was the last thing he could afford, especially on his salary. So the petite man forced himself to calm down, angrily chomping a bite off of his carrot as he continued to watch the broadcast.

"I almost shot him, but I couldn't bring myself to pull that trigger!" said the policeman, his voice growing higher as he grew more excited. "I mean, it's not his fault he's a total crazy, and I just had a bit of that compassion, you know?! So he starts laughing as he's running, and he ran _right across a busy street_ without even caring that cars were coming from both ways!"

Near couldn't breathe, he didn't even think to consider that, if Mihael had gotten hit by a car, there wouldn't be this broadcast. All he could focus on was the thought of Mihi's screams as an incoming semi threatened to crush his frame—

"So I lost him, and he's still out there! Now, you have to remember, you can't ever think the same as he does! His brain is broken, so if you think you know where he is, please call your police and get them to him right away—he's a danger to everybody, including himself!"

An older picture of Mihael then flashed on to the screen. The sight made Near want to scream—it was a picture of Mihael, he couldn't have been older than sixteen or seventeen, but it was obviously a candid shot. He was in a plain white t-shirt and plain white pants, a pair of plain white socks adorning his feet…it appeared as though he was in a cafeteria, because there was a food tray in his hands. However, thin cuts adorned his arms. They were the kind that weren't deep enough to leave scars, but there were more than enough to persuade the doctor they were self-inflicted.

"Christ…" he whispered, allowing his face to fall into his hands, the picture that was on the screen burned into his brain. Mihael, his eyes sunken and surrounded by dark purple bags, his hair choppy at the ends, as though a retarded, blind, ninety-year-old had cut it…it wasn't right. No sixteen-year-old should look like that.

"Now, please remember, he is extremely dangerous! Use caution when you approach him!" the policeman yelled, the broadcast flicking off a second later—somebody had turned the TV off. That somebody, as Near saw when he turned around, was Halle.

"Hun…why are you gettin' yourself involved with…people like that…"

"People like what?" he repeated stiffly, trying to keep down all traces of emotion now that he knew somebody was watching, now that he knew somebody could be exposed to his weakness if he were to show them how he cared. Certainly, Halle was not a bad person—much on the contrary, she was a very nice woman…but that did not mean Near trusted her. He had learned not to trust people…a long time ago. Maybe that was the only thing _he_ ever taught him.

"_Near…please…remove your clothing…"_

"_L, this is wrong, I do not believe that the position is worth—"_

"_Or I will remove them for you."_

Shaking his head, Near turned back to Halle, waiting for her response. She didn't seem to have any, and as Near went to stand up, she turned to look at him with a sad look on her face.

"Hun…I know you don't have enough money for…whatever it is your doin'…and you're gonna have even less when you gotta start payin' the rent…"

Near wondered where this random topic of conversation was coming from, so he turned around and have her a blank stare, raising an arm to begin to twirl a lock of his snow-white hair. She squeezed her cherry-red lips together for a moment, smacking them open a moment later, blinking awkwardly a few times before coming to look at him once again.

"You can always…dance. It gets you over seven-hundred extra dollars a month. That's a lotta money, hun, and you seem like you could do with it…especially if you're gonna find Mi—"

"I am a doctor," he said, his voice deadpan and even, devoid of any trace of emotion. "I do not care how poor I grow, I will not sell my body for any amount of money. It is simply undignified."

"I unde'hstand," she said sorrowfully, turning back to the empty bar, a lost and empty look in her eyes. It was in Near's better nature to go and comfort her, to see what was wrong, but at the moment…his better nature was somewhere far, far away from wherever he was. He felt no regret as he walked up the stairs, hands clenched into fists, brow knitted, going to take notes on where he could find Mihael.

---x---

"Fuck yes…" muttered the redhead, looking at the bag that triumphant Mello was holding as he ran in the door, slamming it behind him and locking it. "You got it all......I love you, Mello."

His smile couldn't grow any wider as he handed Matt the bag, his legs shaking as adrenaline pumped through his veins, coursing through his very being. He had just been in a _cop chase_, and now he was going to be rewarded by Matt—Matt had said he loved him for this. He was definitely going to get rewarded.

A few minutes later, Matt had out a syringe, and was mixing the white powder with something he pulled out of the cupboard, as well as a little bit of water. Mello didn't know what he was doing, but it reminded him of the drugs he used to get shot up in him all of the time…he didn't know what Matt was making, nor did he know what the doctors used to shoot him in, but all that he knew was that he trusted Matt. The redhead was the only one he had.

After a few more minutes, the redhead had two syringes and a smile on his face. He beckoned Mello over to the kitchen counter where they were resting, and he grabbed on to the blonde's arm roughly, holding it out and gesturing for Mello to hold still.

"W-wait, what are you doing?" he asked, feeling the needle pressing right against the skin that was covering his delicate blue veins, not quite yet piercing the thin layer of protection. "Matt, what is that, I-I—"

"Shut up, Mello, and just trust me," he chuckled, not giving Mello any warning before he roughly shoved the needle into his vein, slowly injecting the still-warm liquid into his arm, mixing it straight into his bloodstream. Mello winced, his blue eyes squeezing shut, but all he could hear was the slight squeaking of the needle and Matt's occasional, soft laugh.

After he deemed the blonde done, and they syringe was empty, the redhead yanked it out of his arm and dropped it in the sink, rolling up his own sleeve a moment later. He roughly stabbed a different needle into a large vein on his arm, contentedly sighing as he emptied the contents of the vial into himself, his eyes closing in ecstasy. Less than a second later, he walked over to the couch, plopping himself down before pulling the needle out of his vein, gasping as pleasurable feelings overtook his body.

"M-mm, M-Matt, what the hell was that?" Mello asked, gripping on to his arm, also on his high from the addictive drug.

"Heroin," he answered, letting out another gasp through clenched teeth, pleasure overcoming his body as the drug coursed through his veins. "Oh fuck, yes…Christ…"

Mello's body was suddenly overcome with sleepiness, and the desire to empty his stomach contents into the nearest waste bin. Sickness and nausea overcame him, but it seemed as though his body was overcome with pure exhaustion. He could feel the drug coursing through him, and suddenly, it was as though his head was being slammed in a car door.

"M-Matt, fuck, g-god that hurts!" he groaned, leaning over to the kitchen wastebasket and promptly throwing up, his head now spinning more than ever.

"Shut up…you have to get used to it," he mumbled, now completely sedated from the drug, much more docile and calm than normal. "Just…be quiet."

Mello's eyelids suddenly felt as heavy as lead, and the blonde didn't hesitate before lying down on the floor completely, allowing himself to fall asleep, the addictive drug working its magic on the blonde's brain, eating him from the inside out.

* * *

**End Note: **Le gasp...Matt, you asshole. xD And maybe there is a backstory to the picture on the news... OH, and thank you all for getting me [almost!] to 200 reviews on this story! : D I am so grateful to you~~~

~FragilePuzzle


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: **People seem to be getting mad at Matt for getting Mihi/Mihael/Mello all hyped up on drugs. D: I am mad at him too. Boo for Matt. T.T Though, irl, I love the redheaded bastard. xD He's pretty kickass. I cosplay him too. c:

* * *

"Na-chi…" whispered Mihi, the blonde lying on the floor of the kitchen in the apartment he shared with Matt. "Na…chi…I feel sick…"

Nobody answered, and it wasn't until he heard footsteps did he even realize that Matt was awake. The redhead walked into the room, his boots thudding against the wooden floor, and all Mihi could see were blurry spots—his head hurt, it was still spinning, and he felt like he wanted to wretch again.

"Get up off of the floor, you dumbass," he said, lightly kicking the blonde man in the side, causing him to cough and allow a whine to escape his throat. It hurt…everything was too bright, too loud, it was like he had a hangover but it was worse than that.

He craved more.

You probably want more, don't you?" the redhead laughed, showing him the bag full of powder, the two of them not even having made a dent in the drug the night before. "You want me to shoot you up, or do you wanna do it yourself? You'll probably have to learn, in case I'm not here…not that I'd ever leave a fucking untrustworthy cunt like you here all alone, but still."

"_If you were a girl, at least you'd have a fucking cunt!"_

"I-I'm not a cunt," he whimpered, his head spinning as he tried to stand up, using the kitchen counter to manage to get up on to his knees. He had to throw up again, he knew that much—he could feel the churning in his stomach, the nausea taking over again.

"You are a cunt," Matt retorted, bending down and yanking the blonde's pants down, slipping a hand in between his thighs and beginning to roughly rake his nails down the soft skin there, causing the blonde to hiss, tears of pain forming in the corners of his eyes.

"I-I'm not a cunt!" repeated the blonde, managing to pull away and stand up, tugging up his pants before beginning to run towards the bathroom, stumbling along, his head absolutely pounding. He just wanted to be alone, he was going to throw up again, he wanted Na-chi.

"Mello, I'm gonna give you two fucking seconds to turn your ass around—"

Mihi had already slammed the bathroom door shut, fingers fumbling to push in the gold thumb-turn lock, managing to get it just before the redhead began to rattle at the doorknob. He knew he was going to be in trouble when he got out, but he didn't want to think about that right now, all he wanted to think about was the security of the bathroom that he had right now.

"Mello, open this fucking door right now!" he heard Matt say, the redhead's voice muffled through the wooden barrier that was the thin, old bathroom door. The blonde didn't comply. Instead, he wedged himself in between the space between the porcelain toilet and the wall, curling up into the fetal position—his knees to his chest and his hands wrapped around them protectively, his head buried in the little cozy he had made between his chest and legs.

"Open up! Open the fucking door! Now, Mello!"

"_Open up! Open the fucking door! Now, Mihael!"_

Mihi tried to tune the redhead out by beginning to sing, humming melodies that his mother used to sing to him, tears rolling down his face as his breath hitched with hiccups and sobs. Finally, he felt his stomach emptying and he was leaning over the toilet, barely even aware of what was happening. All he heard was the flush of a toilet and then he was back in his safe corner of the bathroom, remembering the song that Near sang to him—he only sang to him once, but he had the most beautiful voice Mihi had ever heard. He wanted to go back with Na-chi.

"_When I see Mihi's smile…tears run down my face…I cannot replace…And seasons are changing…and waves are crashing…and stars are falling all for us......I will never let Mihi fall…I will stand up with Mihi forever…I will be there for him through it all…even if saving him sends me to Heaven…Cause he's my…my true love…my whole heart…please do not throw that away…please do not walk away…please tell me he will stay…he may use me as he will…pull my strings just for a thrill…"_

"I will never let you fall…I'll stand up with you forever…I'll be there for you through it all…even if saving you sends me to Heaven…" Mihi finished, tears streaming freely down his face now. He wanted to be back at Wammy's, so then Na-chi would only sing lullaby songs to him, and only kiss him, and only love _him. _

And then the door broke.

---x---

Near realized how much he owed Halle, the blonde bar-owner with the kind heart whom he hadn't even been nice enough to help when he knew she was depressed, those few nights ago. He knew that, the more he simply worked one job that was barely enough to pay for his essentials, that he wouldn't ever be able to pay her back. It wasn't helping that finding somebody was much more expensive than one would think.

So when Halle approached the small boy and suggested at least _trying_ dancing, even just once, he didn't have much of a choice but to accept. He had to get the money, and that was the only reason he was doing this. It was the only reason he was back in a private room of the bar, in nothing but a silver and white minidress, thin material draping down over his customer—a man who was sitting in a plush red chair behind him.

Near's face reddened as the next song started—he recognized it immediately. Everybody knew this song, even though he had been sheltered his whole life, working at an isolated mental hospital as soon as he escaped from that lifestyle, he knew it.

Slave 4 U, by Britney Spears.

"Oh yeah…" the man chuckled, watching as Near slowly dipped down into his lap. The only thing that was keeping Near from running out of the damned low-lit room was the idea of that paycheck, the only reason he was here was so he could find Mihael. Mihael was the only thing that mattered, even as the light in the room began to pulse with the beat, and he felt the man's hands groping his ass. He just continued to dance, wanting to keep the man in here as long as he could—the longer he was in here, the more he got paid.

Near stiffened as he felt the man's fingertips venture under the very edge of his delicate panties, the skin of his hands callused and rough against the soft and gentle flesh of his ass. However, he couldn't say anything. The money, Mihael, he had to pay back Halle, he was going to get kicked out.

"The bar is gonna be closing in five minutes," he heard Halle's voice say over the intercom, and he silently thanked god for whatever force made time seem to pass by so quickly.

"Guess I better spend my time wisely," the man laughed, yanking Near into his lap, forcing the boy to begin to grind against his erection. Near cried out, trying to pull away, knowing that this couldn't possibly be appropriate conduct.

"L-let me go!" he insisted, pulling away and quickly taking a few steps back, his face red and flushed from both dancing and embarrassment. "P-please pay me now, and I believe that it is time for the bar to close."

He tried to keep steady and strong as the man stood up, attempting to intimidate the smaller boy. However, it appeared as though Halle had either heard his yelp, or had some sort of disaster-senses—which would make sense, in a way. She did run a bar, after all. But without warning, the chesty blonde walked into the room, stepping in front of Near protectively.

"The bar is closing. Please pay my dancer and get out," she said, her voice icy and firm. She accepted the money the man had pulled out of his wallet, counting it and nodding before making sure the man was leaving, then turning around and handing the wad of dollar bills to Near. She gave him a soft and reassuring smile, as well as a dirty look towards the door.

"I'm sorry…they're not usually like that, I don' even know why you got all the assholes tonight…I'm sorry…but here, take your money, you earned it, hun!" she said, smiling sweetly the whole time.

"Please, keep it," he said, pushing the money back towards her, gently dabbing at his forehead with a piece of the sheer cloth. "I only danced so I would be able to pay Halle back, if even a little bit."

"Thank you, hun," she said, still smiling like a maniac, pulling him into a tight embrace—one that, surprisingly, he returned. She wasn't used to that, to say for sure, because the small doctor was usually stoic and still whenever she hugged him. The blonde woman then decided that Near was a very good hugger. He didn't squeeze your stomach too hard, he wasn't uncomfortable with your chests touching, and he didn't hardly touch you at all, like you had some sort of disease. Yeas, he was definitely a good hugger. She was slightly jealous of Mihael, whoever he was, for having such a cute and sweet boy like Near.

"Well, you gonna go look for Mello now, hun?" she asked, ruffling his hair softly, pulling away from the hug. "Or are you gonna sleep first? You should probably take a shower, you smell like nasty cologne and incense and sweat."

"I believe I will go looking for Mihael tomorrow," he said, twirling a lock of hair around his index finger, shrugging softly. "I am going to take a shower and retire for the night, if that is okay with Halle?"

"Of course hun," she said, kissing him on the forehead before shooing him out of the incense-fogged room, leaving behind him. "Takada said she's more than willin' to help with the dishes tonight, because she remembers how rough her first night of dancin' was, and she said she don' help out enough around here anyway. So you go take a nince hot bath or something and get some sleep, and I'll see you tomorrow, alright hun?"

Near nodded softly, allowing a small twinkle into his eyes.

"Thanks for payin' me back!" she added, walking him walk up the stairs. All she got was a slight nod, though maybe that was just his head bobbing as he walked up the stairs. She couldn't tell.

* * *

**End Note: **You really think I'd let Near off the hook with dancing? xD I think not.

~FragilePuzzle


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: **Gahh, almost twenty chapters so far...o.o AND OMG IT'S CHRISTMAS BREAK!!!!! For me, anyways...cause I get to skip school tomorrow. c: Yay for parents that don't give a shit!

* * *

"Excuse me…" Near said softly, twirling a lock of his snowy-white hair around his finger, approaching a black-haired man's table at the food court in the mall. "Does this man look familiar?"

Near then showed the man a picture of Mihael—this one much more recent, taken when he first arrived at Wammy's Institute. If you asked Near, it was much more flattering than the one they had on the news. The blonde's hair wasn't as choppy, he only had slight black circles underneath his eyes, and there was actually a small smile playing at his lips. It also showed a small scar the blonde had on his lip, one that the doctor hadn't even noticed until this very day.

"Yeah, I've seen him," the man mumbled, his brow furrowing as he looked at the picture further. "He's a fucking tease, let me tell you that."

"What?" Near asked, his eyes widening as he realized this man claimed that he had seen Mihael. "Please, tell me more!"

"Yeah, I saw him at a fucking bar, what's it to you?" he asked bitterly, scowling at the petite doctor now, his eyes flickering to his bright white hair, as most people's did.

"Any information would be helpful," added Near, looking at the man with wide gray eyes, sitting himself down at the table, having found a gold mine now.

"And what's in it for me?"

"Name a price," the smaller of the two said urgently, twirling at his hair so hard that a few strands ripped out, remaining twirled around his finger.

"Aww, fuck, never mind. I'll just tell you," he sighed, running his hand through his hair as he looked at the small boy. "I don't even fucking _know_ you, why do you even want to look for this guy anyways—?"

"My name is Near, it is a pleasure to become acquainted, now please, I must know all of the information pertaining to this man," the doctor interrupted, knowing that he had to get to the blonde before the police did.

"Whatever…I saw him at this fucking bar called Simple Blue," the man started, interrupting himself and holding his hand out for Near to shake before he spoke again. "My name is Gevanni, by the way. Anyways, I was at this bar, and I just saw him sitting there—and he's pretty, y'know, fuckable and all, so I figured I'd see if he wanted to come home with me."

Near's fist clenched, but he didn't say anything.

"And he said he was all alone—and I only asked because I wanted to know if he already had a date, you know? But then, I get him a couple drinks and he's all fucking drunk and crying to me about his daddy complex, and I'm just gonna take him home and get it over with—but then this redheaded asshole with goggles on comes up and just fucking takes him."

"I see…" muttered Near, pulling his knee to his chest.

"Know what the weirdest fucking part was?" he asked the small boy, rolling his eyes. "He asked for fucking _juice_. At a bar. I mean, what the hell? Who asks for juice? At first, I thought he was just talking about some slang for a drink, but no, he actually wanted like, fucking orange juice."

"Did Gevanni happen to get any information on where Mello was residing?" he asked eagerly, practically on the edge of his seat with a burning desire to find if the blonde was alright or not.

"No, I'm not a fucking creeper or anything!" Gevanni said, standing up, apparently done with whatever he was doing before Near had arrived. "Now, I have to go, so good luck with…whatever the hell it is you're doing."

And Near was no further than where he was when he started. Now, the only thing he knew for sure was that Mello was definitely with Matt. The thought made him sick.

---x---

Mello hated clubbing. The only part he really liked about it was the drinking, because it was as if he could just…drown everything out. He didn't have to remember anything, and he could just lay back and allow the magic of alcohol to suffocate his other two personalities that were on the verge of rising constantly. It was simply a weapon to help the most violent of the three personalities keep control over the vessel that was Mello.

"M-Matt…" he slurred, dropping the glass of tequila he was holding on to the floor, laughing as it spilled. "Matt…make me feel good…"

The last four words the blonde uttered were more of a question than a demand, and the redhead only allowed Mello to fall over on to him, absolutely smashed, not a sober iota left in his body. The two of them were in a couch pit at Simple Blue, which was the bar they had taken a liking to—they went there much more often than any other bar, especially now that Matt had developed a small network of friends through free shootups and drinks galore.

"Damn, you are one lucky bastard," said a man sitting on the other side of Mello. His name was Rod Ross, and apparently, he was the head of a gang and had a little bit of a crush on Mello. A crush meaning he might want to fuck him senseless a few times, but that was about it. It was funny how the definition of words changed with the times.

"How much would you be willing to pay to cum inside this cunt?" Matt asked, yanking on Mello's hair, pulling him up and showing him to Rod as though he were a trophy that were earned, rather than stolen from another child through threatening and bullying.

"However the hell much it costs," he said, kicking his feet up on to an end table, his eyes practically raping Mello's ass through his tight leather pants Matt always forced him to wear when they went clubbing.

"Give me…five hundred, and he's yours for the fucking night. Swear, that's cheaper than some prostitutes that'll charge you that much an hour. You know where I crash, right? Just bring him back when you're done. How does that sound?"

"Fuck, Matt, you serious? I though' he was yours!"

"Everything can be bought for a price, Double R," the redhead chuckled, holding out his hand, Rod quickly placing the amount of money that the redhead desired in it, in the form of folded up bills. Matt insisted on counting them before pushing the blonde into the gangster's lap, both of the men laughing as Mello attempted to sit himself up, not being able to because of both the liquor and exhaustion. It was a pathetic sight, but apparently, everybody in that pit in the floor thought it was just about the funniest thing they had ever seen.

"Fuck yeah…you good to me, Matt. I'm gonna be good to you too, don't you even worry about it, brotha'," laughed Rod, tugging on Mello's hair and bringing them to eye level, a muscular arm wrapping around the blonde's waist.

"Don't even worry about it," Matt assured him, getting out of the couch pit, apparently leaving to do one of three things—go over to the bar and get drunk, pick up a girl and bring her home to fuck, or go home and shoot himself up with heroin. Whever it was, he really wasn't in the mood to have the blonde with him, so he figured that if he was going to be getting rid of him for the night…well, he might as well be getting something out of it too.

"Don't be too rough. We're gonna have fun tomorrow night," he laughed, walking away, leaving a defenseless and drunk Mello in a pit with a man who had just paid for him with all intentions of fucking him raw, pounding into him until he bled…however, Mello only clung to the nearest source of warmth, not even knowing that he would probably the last person the blonde wanted to see, in just a little while.

---x---

Near decided that it was about time to go to Simple Blue, the bar where apparently, the man named Gevanni had seen Mihael. So, as he realized he'd have to go during his shift, he decided that he'd have to butter Halle up in order to persuade her to let him go and do what he needed to do. So, the petite doctor thought it would probably be for the best if he offered to do another dance and pay her back a bit more, as well as offering to work a few nights for lower pay.

"Excuse me, Halle?" he asked softly, twirling a piece of hair around his thin finger, standing behind the blonde woman.

"Yeah, hun?" she said, her voice peppy, turning around and exposing to Near the wad of cash in her hand—she must have taken it out of the cash register and was counting it from the night before.

"I was wondering if it would be possible for me to take the night off tonight," started Near, yanking on the lock of hair slightly harder. "I would be willing to do a dance to pay Halle back tomorrow night, and I would work for free for—"

He was silenced as Halle put a finger to his lips, smiling at him.

"You go 'head and take tonight off, cause you ain't taken a day off yet," said the bar-owner, her cherry lips engraved into the smile they seemed to always bear. "But if you wanna do a dance tomorrow night, I can sure schedule you one…but remember, you don't gotta pay me back right away, hun."

"I appreciate Halle's generosity," Near replied, a sparkle of life in his normally-gray eyes. "I heard from somebody that they noticed Mihael and Matt frequent that bar, so it might be best if I was to go there tonight…and since it is already late, I should probably begin walking there."

"You go right ahead, hun. I'll see you later tonight!"

* * *

**End Note: **Oh snap, Near is going to Simple Blue -- which is, of course, the generic name for all of the bars in my stories. xD I just love that name. I'm going to find a bar named Simple Blue in REAL life, and I'm going to go there. That is my new life goal. Screw college.

~FragilePuzzle


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **Haha...long time no update, eh? xD I feel so bad for neglecting this story, but...I can. : l Cause it's my story, and I'm in a pissy mood. u__u

* * *

Near walked into the club, bass pounding through his small frame, the music too loud for his delicate ears—even back at Halle's bar, or club, or whatever they called them, the music was always quiet, soft, and while being relaxing, also quite intimate.

He felt like he stuck out in the moving mass of sweaty bodies, all tainted somehow, while he was still a pure, clean, ball of pale white. People were staring at him, he could understand why, but that didn't mean he had to like it. It was as though their eyes were violating his privacy somehow, even though the people themselves hadn't moved an inch…and it wasn't as though he could tell them off for looking at him. He just didn't like it.

Sighing, he began his nervous habit of twirling a lock of hair around his finger before pulling out his picture of Mihael and beginning to ask around the club. He decided that the bartender would probably be the best to ask first, because if Mello and Matt had been here, they probably would have ordered drinks…and maybe the bartender would remember him.

"Excuse me," he said softly, urging himself past a few people to get to the man behind the counter, who quickly turned to him—probably hoping for another paying customer. "Does this man look familiar?"

He then pulled out the picture of Mihael to show the bartender, and the man scowled a bit at finding that Near wasn't going to buy a drink, but he nodded nonetheless. Turning back to making drinks, Near had to hoist himself up on a barstool to try and talk to the man further.

"He has been seen here, I presume?" he began, trying to catch the man's attention.

"Yeah, he comes in here with a redheaded asshole at least three times a week," he grumbled, serving up a martini to the woman sitting at the bar next to the smaller boy. "Blondie sure as hell drinks a lot, and he doesn't even look that old. He's always sitting over in that put with the red couches. Some of his friends are over there now, I think. Why don't you go bother them, kid? I'm busy."

Near nodded as thanks, hopping off the stool and quickly running over to the couch pit with the red couches, slightly out of breath from having to shove his way past so many people. He saw there were a few thuggish-looking men sitting there, but no Mihael or Matt…the thought of this causing a disappointed sigh to slip past Near's pale lips.

"Excuse me," he said softly, bending down next to the edge of the pit, knowing that it probably wouldn't be good to just hop down there without being invited. "Does this man look familiar?"

He handed the picture down to the men, each of them having to only glance at it before nodding or chuckling with knowledge. Near's eyes widened, and he was immediately eager for more, wanting to know exactly how much they knew.

"Please, I need to know everything about this man, his name is Mihael, but he sometimes goes by Mello—"

"Neh, shut up," a man said, standing up and causing Near to stand as well, taking a single step back. People like this were usually the ones with the shortest fuse, and while Near wasn't usually easily scared, that didn't mean he was stupid enough to not know when to back down when it was needed. And now seemed like the time when it was needed—these men usually had big egos as well, and wanted to appear intimidating to others, so by backing away, he was showing that he recognized the other man's power. Near had made a psychological impact on him without the man even noticing.

"Please, it is extremely urgent…"

"How do we know that you ain't one of the cops?" he asked, cracking his neck threateningly, Near taking another small shuffle back to show the man that he respected his power.

"I am a doc—" Near interrupted himself with a cough, deciding that it would probably be best to come up with an on-the-spot lie. "I owe Mihael some money, but before I was able to pay him back, Mihael ran away…so I know that if I do not pay him back, good things are not necessarily going to be happening to me, so I followed him here to give him the money I owe him."

"I see," the man said, his eyes squinting before relaxing, showing Near that they had accepted his lie. "Well, Mello and Matt ain't here tonight…Mello's busy havin' some fun up at Rod's place, that man paid Matt a hella lot to let that redheaded fucker borrow his boyfriend last night."

"Wait, what?" Near asked, his eyes widening as he allowed his hand to fall to his side, a few strands of pure white hair twisted around his index finger.

"Rod. Another guy that's usually with us. He paid Matt to let him take Mello home when he was drunk and fuck his brains out. You ain't very smart, are you?"

"I understand…is there any other information…that one might have?" asked the petite doctor, his voice abnormally strained as he tried to restrain any of his emotions, accepting the picture of Mihael when one of the men tried to hand it back to him.

"Nope. Now get going, you stupid little kid, and don't stick your nose where it don't belong 'fore it gets ripped off or somethin."

And Near left, internally screaming, damning Matt to hell. He didn't care if the redhead was crazy or not, he was going to fucking bash his teeth in for getting Mello drunk and _selling him for sex_. Or maybe it was Mihi, poor little Mihi that was crying for him.

Near was surprised at the horridness of the violent thoughts that trailed that notion.

---x---

Near had been silent and moody starting when he got back to Halle's club from Simple Blue, always looking as though he was thinking about something extremely deep, far off in his own world. As it was time from him to dance, Halle was a bit apprehensive to go up and talk to him, but she did anyways.

"Hey hun…you got your first dance in a few minutes, you might wanna go get dressed and get ready and things…" she mumbled, stroking his curls slightly, wondering what he had found out at Simple Blue that could possibly throw him into such a state of inner turmoil. "I understand if you don't wanna dance, but I got you a payin' customer and all…"

"I understand. I will go get dressed," he said robotically, standing out of the chair and pulling away from Halle before she even had a chance to say anything to him. The small boy made his way upstairs, walking into his room and shutting the door tightly behind him. Quickly stripping out of the plain white clothes he had adorned that morning, he inhaled deeply, simply standing in the middle of his bedroom, naked. Slowly exhaling and opening his eyes, the gray orbs immediately fell on the picture of Mihael and him that rested next to the bed.

It was a small picture, probably a four by six, but Near loved it. It was taken when the two of them were outside; one of the other doctors took it. Mihael was smiling softly, and he himself had a tiny sparkle in his eyes as well. However, he couldn't bear to look at it right now, so he took a few steps over to the endtable it rested on and flipped it face down. Sighing deeply, he got dressed into his white dancing outfit, the same he had worn a few days ago, coming downstairs and entering through the back door into the private dancing room.

He saw his customer sitting in the plush red chair, and as Oops, Oh My started, he began to dance mindlessly, his thoughts only focused on Mihael, Mihi, even Mello.

---x---

"Matt?" Mello asked softly, sitting up in bed, the sheets askew over his naked body. Luckily for the redhead, Mello didn't remember anything that happened when his untrustworthy 'friend' had sold him to Rod for the night, all he knew was that he woke up in his bed and had a sharp pain in his ass. However, it appeared as though the redhead wasn't home—this had never happened before. The blonde supposed that Matt had left him all alone here because he assumed that he was unconscious.

"Matt…?" Mihi repeated, not used to his cried going unanswered. This brought up a fear in him that caused him to clench his fists, his eyes wavering, and now the blonde was in a more dangerous state than ever. Mihi stood up, wrapping the blanket on the bed around his shoulders before making his way over to the kitchen, blue eyes wide and nervous. He wanted something, he wanted it badly, but he didn't know exactly what it was…he couldn't tell, but his body was screaming at him to get it.

"Matt?" he tried again, louder this time, as though that would make the redhead come to him faster. "Matt, are you home? Na-chi? Are you here either?"

Nobody answered, and now that he was more away, Mihi's body was screaming for whatever he wanted even louder. The blonde figured it must be food, so he made his way over to the fridge, opening it and seeing that there was a piece of leftover pizza resting on the shelf. He might be punished for eating it later, but his leg was moving, and he wasn't making it—his body wanted whatever it wanted so badly, it was as though it was controlling his muscles for him, and he couldn't help as his body went into another small spasm.

Whining softly, he tried to eat the pizza, but it tasted disgusting. Nonetheless, he managed to force it down, his body continuing to occasionally let out small, involuntary twitches. Goosebumps ran up and down his arms, and he shook his head to try and cure the pounding that was going on inside of his skull, his eyeballs feeling as though somebody had taken the pad of their thumb and was trying to squeeze them out of his head.

After sitting on the floor a few minutes, still _craving_ that something, Mihi knew what it might be. However, he was too scared to face it, so he tried to allow himself to withdraw. It didn't work, he just wanted to leave, but he couldn't…so he stumbled into the bathroom, grabbing Matt's small pocket knife off of the counter, slamming the wooden door to the room shut once he arrived inside of the all-white room. It reminded him of Wammy's, of Na-chi, of the doctor who swore he loved him…Matt said he loved him now, but it never felt the same, he would never repeat it when he wanted him to.

The blonde locked the door, which had since been fixed since Matt broke it down and punished him for locking himself in there—he then made his way over to his safe corner, wedging himself in between the toilet and the wall once again, gently slipping up the bottoms of his pants. He saw that his ankles and legs were covered in scars, which were never exposed to anybody, since he always wore long pants. However, this brought back memories of all the institutions he had been to before this, and his body finally allowed Mello to surface, knowing that the strongest of the three would be best suited for its emotional distress, and might know how to handle it better than little five-year-old Mihi did.

However, Mello didn't. He saw the scars, anger bubbling in his chest, and Matt's glistening sharp pocket knife in his hand. Back at all of the institutions, the asylums, whatever you wanted to call them, he had managed to do this however possible. Whether it was with a sharp rock, a broken piece of glass, his nails, even his teeth, he had managed to survive this way. It was the only thing he had ever had control over, the only way he could calm himself when he was about to go into a hysteria.

A sharp sob slipped past his lips as he pressed the sharp blade of the knife into the soft skin of his shin, allowing blood to seep out past the shining metal, the warmth of the thick, red liquid warming the cold of the blade. He dragged it, tearing the skin, more tears dripping down his face as he allowed a helpless scream to fall from his lips, moving it up an inch or so and repeating the process, continuing until his left leg was covered with dripping blood, as was the floor. After he felt calmer, much more inclined to cry than scream, after he felt that he had some sort of _control_ over himself, he allowed the bloodstained knife to fall on to the plain white tile floor. He let his leg bleed for a few minutes before he began to feel lightheaded, and then he stood up and decided he should probably wrap it up. He didn't do this because he wanted to die, he did it to try and cope with life itself. Dying would only defeat the purpose of struggling so hard to remain alive.

It wasn't until he finished wrapping the thick white bandages around his leg did he hear the front door open. Matt was home, and judging by the loud thuds of his boots, he wasn't happy.

"Mello?" he hissed, seeing that the blonde wasn't in the bed the two of them shared. "Mello, you'd better be fucking out here by the time I count to three. One…"

Mello quickly threw the bandages back into the cabinet, dragged Matt's knife under cold water before tossing his pant leg down and running out into the main room as fast as he could.

"…three," he finished, seeing the pale blonde in front of him, his pocket knife in Mello's hand. "What the fuck are you doing with my knife?"

"I was just…I was…" Mello stuttered, seeing the look of anger on the redhead's face, trying to come up with an excuse as fast as he possibly could. "Please, I-I—"

Matt walked over to him, smacking the knife out of his hand, shoving the blonde roughly on to the floor a moment later. The blonde still had goosebumps, and slight body spasms, so when the redhead saw this, a twisted smile crept on to his face.

"You're an addict, Mello," he chuckled, grabbing on to the blonde's arm and yanking up his sleeve, exposing the many black and red bruises that stained the skin there, a black dot in the middle of each of them. They were the sites where Matt would inject him with heroin, and it suddenly hit Mello—that was what he was craving, it was what he wanted, and he wanted it now.

"Please Matt," he asked, submission in his voice. "I-I need more…please…"

"You're gonna let me fuck you until I cum, then, he chuckled, walking over to the locked cupboard where he kept the miracle drug, pulling out a small vial of it, as well as a syringe. He emptied the vial into the syringe, yanking out Mello's arm and roughly stabbing it into his vein, only giving him half of it this time. He then pulled the needle out of his arm, and injected it into his own, watching as the ecstasy from the drug overcame the blonde, and his body stopped involuntarily twitching, his goosebumps fading back into his skin.

"You like that?" he muttered, groaning as the drug began to work its own magic on his body, and he suddenly felt that _rush_ you got every time you injected it. Kicking Mello lightly, he gestured for the blonde to get up on to the bed and take his pants off, Mello complying before he even thought about his bandaged leg. He only wanted the redhead to love him, to reward him, but before he knew it, he was being flipped on to his back and roughly shoved into. There was no warning, but Mello had grown used to that—Matt never prepared him, or kissed him anymore. He just wanted to fuck him in the ass, rough, hard, and long.

It wasn't until forty-five long minutes later did the redhead finally cum, Mello exhausted and panting, nearly screaming with every rough, painful, and uncaring thrust. His palms had bleeding marks where he had clenched his hands into fists and dug his sharp nails into the soft skin there, and he was sure he could feel a bit of blood mingled with the cum that was dripping out of his ass. With heroin, it always took Matt _so_ long to cum—he came almost twenty minutes earlier, because he didn't shoot up as much as the redhead did, but of course, Matt didn't even consider thinking of stopping.

"M-Matt…" he muttered softly, trying to move closer to the redhead, who had roughly pulled out of him and was lying on the bed next to him—he wanted some sort of human contact as his exhausted body shivered. However, as he attempted to snuggle up to him, Matt looked at him disgustedly and kicked him, causing him to fall off the bed painfully, landing on his sliced-up leg. He continued to lay there, waiting until he was sure the redhead was asleep before beginning to cry.

* * *

**End Note:** Believe it or not, heroin actually does increase the time before you cum...it makes it a lot harder, and depending on how long you've been doing it -- sometimes impossible. But yeah...nothing much to say about that. o.o

~FragilePuzzle


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: **Wahh. I don't feel like having an A/N. xDD Only to wish you all Happy Holidays...tomorrow is Christmas eve! Yay. : D

* * *

Halle was watching Near from around the corner, noticing how he measured his water as well as the few vegetables he was eating. Her eyes widened as she put two and two together, finally, noticing how skinny Near was and how she had never seen him eat. He must be anorexic…well; the blonde bar-owner just wouldn't stand for that.

"Near, get your skinny ass over here!" she said suddenly, a tone that demanded absolute obedience in her voice. "We're goin' out for lunch, and I don't care whether you want to or not. You ain't eatin' enough, and I don't want no sickly-looking dancers, you hear me?"

Near turned around, his eyes wide, as though he had been caught masturbating rather than measuring his water down to the very last drop. However, he quickly regained his composure, clearing his throat as though he was trying to be dignified and turning back to his 'meal' a moment later.

"I do not know what Halle is referring to," he muttered, continuing to slice the vegetables he had on a small plate, even though they were probably already considered 'bite-size' to an ant.

"Hun, you don't gotta lie to me, I ain't stupid," she said, walking up behind him, gently pulling him into a motherly hug. "I know you're upset about Mihael and all, but that don't mean you gotta starve yourself or nothing, you gotta keep yourself strong for the both of you—"

"I am not starving myself, and I have been on this…_diet_ long before I met Mihael," he said, voice monotone, disguising any anger or embarrassment he might have. His big secret had just been discovered…and that could mean no good for him. Even if it wasn't endangering his perfectly flat stomach, it was humiliating to be _pitied_ like this, as though he had no choice but to do this. Though, he really didn't have much of a choice—he didn't want to end up fat and stupid, unlike everybody else…he had to stay thin and beautiful for Mihael.

"It ain't a diet unless you're eatin' food," she said gravely, forcing Near to turn around and face her. "Now hun, I'm not gonna let you die because you're being stupid, you understand me? Your eyes are all sunken in, and your skin is all pale…not the good kind of pale either, it's the kind of pale you never wanna see on somethin' that's supposed to be livin."

"I insist that I am—"

"If you ain't gonna follow my rules, Near, you can jus' leave," the usually-cheerful blonde said, causing the small boy's eyes to widen. It was his precious diet, or his job and any chances he might have of finding Mihael. Now, it wasn't even completely about finding Mihael—even if the blonde was dead somewhere, and there was no chance of 'finding' him anymore, he still had to be able to earn a living and fend for himself.

"What…rules is Halle speaking of?" he asked calmly, trying not to let fear show in his voice as he reached up and wrapped a few strands of his pure white hair around his index finger, tugging on them roughly. He hoped she didn't notice his fear that had suddenly been aroused by the thought of never seeing Mihael again, destined to live on the streets.

"I'm talkin' about your eatin," she said after a moment's silence, the serious and deadly tone still in her voice. "Now, we're gonna go out and get some lunch. Do you understand me?"

"I do not have any money—"

"Yeah, well, I do," said Halle, the glint in her eyes that commanded obedience back with a vengeance. "I got some money, and you got a mouth. So I think we got everything we're gonna need to get some lunch for you. You understand me? You do this, or you find yourself a new job and a new place to stay."

"I…I understand," he finally said, looking up at the blonde woman with fear in his eyes, but his face blank. He didn't know if she was playing mind games or _what_ with him, all he knew that was he needed this job, and he needed Mihael.

"Good then. We're takin' my car."

Near always got nervous when Halle went over three sentences without calling him 'hun,' and this circumstance was no exception.

---x---

Near hadn't been to a restaurant in years. The overwhelming smell of pasta and bread was what first hit his nose when he walked into the old Italian diner with his boss, and he nearly threw up, just from the aroma itself. Halle saw that he was getting slightly queasy, so she helped him over to a table and awaited their server, looking at him worriedly as he attempted to casually cover his mouth and nose with his hand.

"Hun," she said, having allowed her temper to cool down somewhat. "I'm sorry, but you gotta get used to eating again. No paying customer is gonna pay to watch a skeleton dance—and how much do you weigh, anyways? C'mon, if you tell me how much _you_ weigh, I'll tell you how much _I_ weigh. You know how difficult that is for a woman to discuss? But I'm gonna tell you anyways."

"I weigh seventy-seven pounds," he said, slightly defensive. He could remember the days when he used to be seventy-five, but apparently, he had somehow slacked on his diet without knowing it. Maybe he had accidentally chewed a piece of gum, or drank sparkling water rather than water, or eaten the wrong kind of yogurt, or an extra few sugar-filled red grapes—

"DAMN, hun!" she yelled loudly, banging her fist on the table, causing what few people that were in the diner to look over towards the two of them. She lowered her voice as she noticed Near's beet red face, as well as the fact that he was wrapping his arms protectively around his stomach.

"I know that it is a lot, I am not usually so heavy—"

"So you're callin' me fat because I weigh a hundred-and-sixty pounds?" she asked, looking at him with an evil stink eye. However, Near just looked right back, pulling a leg to his chest and beginning to tug on his hair once again, allowing the nervous habit to take complete control.

"For one, Halle is a six-foot-one woman…with a quite _large_ chest," he murmured, averting his eyes from his boss, suddenly realizing how that sounded—but he still continued. "Women have a thicker layer of fat than men, and it has been scientifically proven that they have the tendency to absorb more calories from a meal than a man does. Before civilization existed, and there was no farming, the women had to be able to quickly build up fat from what little meat the tribes were able to hunt, in order to allow themselves to become safely pregnant."

"That still ain't no excuse for why you're so skinny now, hun," Halle said, looking at him with worried eyes, her lips pursing slightly. "Well, here's the server."

A blonde girl walked up to their table, bright blue eyes bubbly and slightly lined. Her pigtails bounced as she tapped her foot excitedly, and Near couldn't help but wonder where she got her energy.

"Hi, my name's Miharu, and I'm going to be your server!" she said happily, staring at Near's hair with wide eyes, but not commenting. "How can I take your order? Well…obviously, I can ask you for it, and then write it down on the paper and give it to a cook…and oops, I said it wrong! Because it would be 'may' not 'can' because 'can' isn't proper grammar, and—"

"Um, we'll have a plate of pasta, and a basket of breadsticks, and two large Cokes," Halle interrupted, the girl not seeming offended in the least.

"I will have a diet Coke—"

"No, he'll have a normal."

"Okie dokie!" she said, scribbling something down on a notebook—what looked to be hearts and rainbows, not their order. "And I think your son should have a normal Coke too! He's so tiny! Don't you want to grow up to be big and strong like your mommy?"

Ruffling his hair, the waitress skipped off, humming a little tune under her breath. Halle couldn't help but laugh, but all Near did was avert his eyes and allow a small pout to crawl on to his face. He yanked on the curl again, turning back to Halle, determined to prove his boss wrong. He wasn't too thin, he didn't look like a child, and he _did not_ need to gain any weight.

"Oh, why, Miss!" said an older lady, probably somewhere in her eighties. "What an adorable son you have! How old is he? Was he born with such a unique hair color?"

"He's ten," the bar-owner replied, smiling at her kindly. "And yes, he was born like that. I was so surprised when the doctor brought him back to me, you wouldn't even believe me if I told you!"

"Really? Ten already? He looks so young for his age. Well, I suppose that will pay off when he gets older, like me."

Laughing, the old lady walked off, and Near was now twirling furiously away at his hair. He felt the table shaking slightly, and he looked over to Halle to see that the blonde woman had a hand over her mouth, and her face was red—she was trying to restrain giggles, and as soon as she knew that Near saw her, she leaned over to allow her hair to cover her face. Near didn't find this as amusing as she did, obviously, so he only continued to pout and bring his knee closer to his chest, resting the side of his cheek on it.

"Here's your food!" Miharu said cheerfully, spinning out to their table, gracefully carrying the trays—until she tripped over an outstuck chair, nearly spilling the plate in her right hand all over Near's lap. Luckily, Halle was able to catch it in time, and she prevented any serious disaster from happening.

"Thanks," Halle said, slowly helping the ditzy girl set the plates down on the table, watching as she smiled, nodded, and waltzed over to the next table to make sure they were doing alright. "Now, hun, you're gonna eat this. You're gonna drink the whole Coke, and I don't even care if you're not thirsty. The pasta is really good, especially with parmesan cheese."

With that, the blonde grabbed the small jar of cheese off of the table, sprinkling three or four hundred calories of cheese on to Near's pasta. The petite doctor wrinkled up his nose, but did not say anything as she nudged the plate and drink towards him.

"If you're still hungry, there's breadsticks afterwards," she grinned, taking one out of the basket and beginning to eat it. "Unlimited…and if you're not hungry at all, there's always the door. Like I said, I'm not gonna let you be a dumbass, and I'm _especially _not gonna let my club get a bad reputation for having skinny dancers."

Near picked up his silverware, but set it down a moment later. He was too thirsty to eat…since he hadn't gotten to drink his water before Halle yanked him out of the room…but god, there was so much sugar, so many bubbles, and not to mention the sheer _size_ of the soft drink. But it was for Mihael, it was for his job, it was for Halle…he had to do it.

Placing the see-through straw between his lips, Near closed his eyes and slowly began to suck on it. He could feel the soda coming closer, and closer, and with one last, harsh suck, the sweet liquid exploded into his mouth. It bubbled against his pure white teeth, fizzling against his tongue, staining the hot orifice with its sugary impureness.

"Swallow it," she instructed, her brow furrowing as she watched him attempt to spit it back into the glass. "Swallow it, and don't even think about the stupid calories. It tastes good, don't it?"

She watched Near nod, his cheeks slightly puffed because of all of the soda his mouth held.

"Then you drink more, cause it tastes _good_."

"But I will get fa—"

Near was cut off by Halle placing a hand over his mouth and pinching his nose shut, which caused him to sputter and swallow the sweet soda to avoid choking. His eyes went wide as he realized what he had just done, and he began to cough and hack, as though that could get all of the 'poison' out of his system. He couldn't take it; he was going to throw up—

"Don't even think about throwin' it up," she said threateningly, her brown eyes narrowed. "Now, finish drinkin' that, and take another drink, and then a bite of that pasta."

Near closed his eyes, nodding, wondering if Mihael was even aware of the sacrifices he was making to be with him, to find him, to make sure he was safe. He couldn't put his job in jeopardy, he couldn't risk disappointing the blonde…he needed…to eat. So he did. He ate every single bite of pasta on that plate, two breadsticks (even though they were quite greasy and disgusting…) and to top it all off, he drank a large Coke. All he had left, at the end, was a triumphant smile that graced his petite lips. He was one step closer to finding Mihael.

* * *

**End Note: **This chapter was kind of pointless. xD But yay for Halle. Even though I hate her in canon. ; A ;

~FragilePuzzle


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: **Twice-as-long chapter because it took me so long to update. : D Sorry about that...and I hope you can forgive me. Well, the story is quickly coming to a close...man, I want to write another story like this. xD So much writing, so little time!

AND OH MY GOD. There's a Simply Blue bar in Africa...and it's a gay bar. That is EPIC.

* * *

"Matt…I need it…" whispered Mello, the blonde sitting curled up, on the cushion of the couch very furthest to the left. The redhead was sitting in the middle, but he was much further away from Mello that one would expect. He didn't want to be violently kicked with the blonde's random muscle spasms, goosebumps obvious on every piece of skin that was showing, and his legs occasionally twitching and kicking. His forehead was covered in a layer of thin sweat, and his breathing was irregular. Matt remembered when he had to go through that…he had been an addict before the asylum, and he had to go through the same thing Mello did. Some people called it 'kicking the bucket' because of the leg spasms, and some called it 'going cold turkey' because you would get inexplicable goosebumps, and you couldn't get warm, no matter how much you tried. At the time, those terms weren't funny to the irritable Matt, but now that they were happening to somebody else…they were as funny as hell.

"You need what?" he chuckled, playing with a half-full syringe, teasing Mello by threatening to squirt the rest of the drug into his own vein.

"Please…I-I need it…the drug…" he whispered, his hands clenching the material of his pants tightly, breathing becoming more erratic as he began to rock back and forth—still in the fetal position, he reminded Matt of a some kind of helpless baby.

"You don't _need_ it…you just want it, don't you, Mello?" the redhead questioned, his face only holding a cruel, twisted smile.

"P-please Matt…please…please…" he whispered, his head spinning. He didn't just want it, no, it was so much more than that. He had physically convinced himself that he _needed _it, that he just couldn't live without it. If he couldn't have it, he didn't _want_ to live, anyways. He just wanted the drug, he wanted the rush, he wanted the ecstasy that came with that little dose of heaven.

"No," he laughed cruelly, intending to make his blonde captive suffer. It was so fun, playing with him like this, just finding out to exactly _what_ extent of power he had over Mello.

"Please…Na-chi…" Mihi whined desperately, his voice cracking with pain as he shook his head, not remembering where he was. "Please Na-chi, make it better…it hurts, Na-chi…"

"Na-chi?" questioned the redhead, tossing the syringe carelessly on to the floor, not blinking an eye as it shattered and spilled the precious liquid all over the tile. He turned his green eyes back to the blonde, watching as he shook his head back and forth, still having the same involuntary muscle spasms. Those same orbs narrowed as he heard Mello whisper 'Na-chi' again, throwing back his head and beginning to breathe erratically. Matt remembered the withdrawal symptoms, and you really _did _feel like you needed the drug to function, to do so much as live.

"Do you feel like you want to die, Mello?" he asked cruelly, cupping Mello's hand in his cheek, Mihi's eyes looking back up at him. Mihi allowed his head to loll back as his legs and arms continued to spasm and twitch, nodding and beginning to cry, still hoping for Na-chi…he wanted the doctor to come save him, he wanted to get out of here, he didn't like it. Na-chi was a doctor…he could give him medicine to help him, he wouldn't have to feel bad like this, and maybe he could fix up the cuts and bruises Matt always left on him when they came home from clubs and bars and Matt was just a bit too drunk and Mello was just a bit too lippy.

"_Mihi, your father came home drunk again…please just go wait up in your room, and don't forget to lock the door…hide in the closet and don't make a sound, you promise me?" Misa whispered, cupping her five-year-old son's cheek in her hand, looking at him with large brown eyes filled with tears. She was failing her son, she couldn't even protect him…what kind of mother was she?_

"_But mommy, what about you?!" he asked worriedly, hearing the car in the driveway pull to a stop, the engine slowly roaring down a moment later. "Mommy, please come upstairs and hide with me, I don't like it when daddy makes you cry after he comes home from the bar, and when you have to put on so much makeup so aunt Sayu doesn't ask about your bruises from where daddy punched you, please come upstairs with me mommy, please!!!"_

_Mihael was practically crying at this point, allowing his sentences and pleads to recklessly carry on. However, as the two of them heard heavy footsteps traveling across the porch, causing the wooden planks to creak under the weight, Misa begged her son to go upstairs and hide in his closet._

"_Please Mihi, please listen to mommy, okay?" Misa begged, hearing her drunk husband pull out the keys, fumbling to find the right one in the dark. "Please go, please, I promise you I won't let him hurt me…make sure to lock your door, and don't make a sound!"_

_Mihi nodded, running upstairs and to his room as fast as he could, reaching the bedroom and fumbling with the gold knob to get the door open. As soon as he made it inside of the room, he locked it with the small, thumb-turn click lock that rested smack-dab in the middle of the doorhandle—right after he double-tested it, he made his way to the closet, only stopping to grab his blankie and his favorite music box. Blankie made him feel better, and the music box would help him fall asleep._

"_Please don't hurt mommy, please don't hurt mommy, please don't hurt mommy," he repeated in his childish whisper, making his way into the small walk-in closet, scooting into the small corner and making sure everything was pitch black and silent before beginning to listen intently. He heard daddy walk in the door, and he was quavering all over, terrified that he would accidentally make a giveaway sound that would show daddy right where he was._

"Do you want to die, Mello?" Matt asked again, his fingernails digging into the soft skin of the blonde's tender cheeks. His face was twisted with anger now, but he still managed a laugh as he watched Mihi cry.

"I wanna leave!" he suddenly cried, beginning to struggle furiously, falling off of the couch and on to the hard, wooden floor next to the old furniture. "I wanna leave, let me go, I hate it here!"

Matt grabbed on to his ankle as he began to thrash about, clawing at the floor, kicking and struggling as wildly as possible to attempt to get out of the redhead's grasp. Crying, he managed to tug out of his vice grip, crawling over to the door as fast as he could. His fingers were wrapped around the doorknob when the first blow came. Mihi could feel Matt's strong hand at the back of his head, entangled in his blonde tresses, violently slamming his face into the hard, wooden door. Mello heard a loud crack, one he quickly realized was the door rattling and threatening to split as he was rammed into it again. It was almost as though he pain was a delayed reaction—it wasn't until a second after the third hit did he manage to feel any of it, and when he did, it hit him like a tidal wave. All he could hear was Matt's laughing and his cries as he was viciously beaten.

_Mihael opened the music box, clutching his blankie to his chest, softly rocking back and forth as he heard he unfolding scene downstairs. There was a shatter of glass, and he could hear mommy crying, but only the sad kind of crying, not the crying she did when she got hurt. Mihael was glad for that. However, his eyes widened to a new extent when he heard what his father said next._

'_Where's that good for nothing little piece of shit?" he asked, even his voice indicating violence. Mihael automatically assumed it was him. Even when daddy was drunk, he never called mommy any of that. He always called her a cheating slut, or a cheap whore…even though the small blonde boy didn't know what those things meant, he still knew that, by the tone of daddy's voice, and the way mommy would look away sadly and sometimes even cry, he knew that they weren't good things._

"_Light, why don't we go to bed?" he heard mommy say._

"_Don't touch me!"_

_There was another shattering noise, and a thud, and then the crying mommy did when she was hurt. It was a lot louder this time. Usually she wasn't this loud. Mihael set his music box in front of him, curling up further, holding his blanket closer to his chest and pressing the soft corner against his cheek. He wondered if mommy was alright. Maybe they would have to call the hospital again._

_Then he heard daddy's footsteps on the stairs…creaking…creaking…he was right outside of the bathroom door now, Mihael could tell. There was always a certain squeaking noise that happened when you stepped on a certain floorboard outside of the bathroom. Maybe daddy would decide to take a nice, warm bath instead. That always made him feel better when he was upset about something…mommy would give him a bath, and it was like all his troubles went far away, down the drain with all of the dirty water and bubbles._

"_Mihael?" he asked roughly, slamming the door to the bathroom open and finding out that he wasn't in there. Maybe he wouldn't think to look in the closet. Maybe he would just go to bed._

"_L-Light!" he heard mommy say from downstairs. _

"_Shut up, bitch!"_

_Mommy didn't make another noise after that. Mihael wondered if daddy knew that it was mean to tell somebody to shut up. That was what mommy always told him, anyways._

"_Mihael?!"_

_Daddy tried the doorknob to his room, and he found out it was locked. The small, blonde boy could tell that daddy didn't like this, because he made one of his angry noises and smashed into his bedroom door as hard as he could. Mihael hoped that he wouldn't find him in the closet, but at the same time, he would rather be hit than have mommy get hit. He loved his mommy, just like any good little boy does. He even asked his mommy to marry him, once, but daddy got jealous and locked him in the basement for three days without any food…except for the little bit that mommy snuck him, but then daddy hit her and called her a pig for eating so much._

"_Mihael, open this fucking door, right now!"_

_And then daddy smashed the door open. Mihael could hear his laugh as he walked across the room, the floor creaking—it seemed like all of the floors creaked in his house, they creaked when people walked on them, they creaked even when you tried to sneak, and they creaked the loudest when you were trying to make no noise. It was like they knew you were trying to sneak in and wake mommy up because you had a nightmare._

"_Mihael…"_

_Daddy's voice was a whisper, now, a very scary sort of voice that reminded the blue-eyed boy of those monsters in the scary movies. Of the bad guys, right before they tried to kill the good guys. Mihael didn't like it one bit._

"_Mihael, I know you're in here…"_

_The small boy gently pressed a hand to the outside of his mouth, sliding it up over his nose as well, closing his eyes as though his father could hear him blink. He tried to breathe as silently as possibly, but when he tried to shift himself, in order to be less conspicuous if daddy were to open the closet, something terribly, terribly bad happened. His foot bumped the music box, causing it to wind up and begin to play. It was a beautiful song, and it always relaxed Mihael. He remembered when mommy brought it to the hospital for him. Mommy was always so nice, and kind. However, this time, instead of relaxing, the small boy stiffened up, absolutely terrified. Quickly grabbing on to the box, he tried to shove it underneath a pile of clothes, wanting to silence it. It didn't work, its muffled sounds were still able to be heard, and it was already too late anyways. Daddy knew where he was._

"_Mihael."_

_The closet door was flung open, and he suddenly felt a rough hand yanking on his hair, dragging him out of the dark mini-room, and into his slightly-lightened bedroom. His nightstand lamp was on, and it threw eerie glows and scary shadows across the whole room. It made it look like the black silhouettes on the wall were monsters, waiting to gobble him right up. He'd heard from his daddy that monsters especially loved to eat juicy little boys like him. However, the scariest thing in the room was definitely his daddy._

"_Were you hiding from me?" he laughed manically, throwing Mihael down next to his bed, the small boy landing with his back firmly planted against the side of the furniture. He was in a sitting position, which was better than lying down. When he was lying down, he could see daddy, but he could never try to run away. When he was sitting, it was easier to quickly stand up, and he could always shield his head with his arms. If daddy didn't break them again._

"_I-I wasn't hiding daddy, I promise!" he whimpered softly, flinching his eyes shut as he tried to scoot away from the man._

"_Did your mommy tell you to come up here and hide from me? Did she? Were you trying to run away, you little shithole?"_

"_M-Mommy didn't t-tell me anything daddy, I promise…!" he repeated, his voice slightly shakier and weaker this time, tears welling in his eyes as he realized all-too-well what was coming soon. It was the thing that came whenever he got caught hiding, or doing something that daddy didn't like. Daddy called it his 'time-out' but all of the kids on the TV never had time-outs like he did. Daddy just said that it was his way of being a special daddy, because he was a special son._

"_Your mommy didn't tell you anything?" _

_Mihael shook his head again. _

"_Then I guess it'll just be YOU that takes the time-out, won't it?"_

_Mihael nodded._

_It was always his face first, the face that daddy said he hated. Everybody he knew, especially aunt Sayu, who was daddy's sister—but she was much nicer than daddy—said that he had his mommy's face. He thought that he couldn't have had his mommy's face, because she still had it. But that aside, his daddy told him how much he hated his face almost every day. He could hardly believe it when his mommy told him that she liked his face, and that it was beautiful._

_Screaming as daddy slammed it up against the hard, plaster wall, Mihael began to cry. If there was any part of this that he liked, it was the crying. It made his head spin until he couldn't even feel the pain any more, and it also reminded him that it would be over soon. His daddy mostly liked to make him cry, and the more he cried, the sooner daddy would let him go._

"_Stupid fuck!" he laughed, kicking the small boy in the stomach and causing him to let out a childish scream once again, coughing up a small bit of blood. That was good, though…that meant he got to go to the hospital, with mommy. That way he wouldn't be here anymore._

"_Dadd-y, p-please stop!" he begged, feeling his father grip on to his silky locks once again, entangling his fingers in the golden strands before smashing him into the wall. It was the back of his head that took most of the impact this time, and the small boy didn't even realize he had bitten his lip in half until he felt blood trickling down on to his chin. He always tried to keep quiet, because he didn't want to worry mommy, so he bit his lip. However, with the force of the collision with his head and the wall, his teeth clacked together and he ripped his lip._

_Feeling that his lip was threatening to tear further, he sucked it protectively into his mouth, letting the rusty, metallic taste of blood rush his taste buds. It was disgusting._

"_It's your time-out!" he laughed, throwing Mihael to the floor, nearly in hysterics when his petite head slammed up against the metal frame of his bed. When his son made no attempt to get up, or even more whatsoever, Light decided he was done for now. Now it was on to Misa. It wasn't until then that the small, blonde boy noticed that the music box had finally stopped, he room falling silent, spare his ragged breathing, as daddy made his way back downstairs. More tears watered in his eyes, from helplessness more than anything. As he heard mommy's cries of pain, he knew he had failed her...again._

"Daddy, no, stop!" Mihi screeched, feeling Matt slam him up against an end table. His breath was hitching wildly now, and his bright blue eyes were squeezed together as Matt threatened to bring his fist to the blonde's face once again. He stopped, hovering right over his nose, wrapping his hands around the blonde's throat instead.

"Do you still want to leave, Mello?"

Mello's pupils contracted wildly as he looked around the apartment, not knowing where he was, not knowing why there was such an _excruciating_ pain racketing throughout his entire body, and not knowing why Matt was panting with his hands gripped firmly around his neck.

"Do you still want to _leave_?" he repeated, voice much slower and more serious this time, putting emphasis on each word, as though Mello were retarded. However, this sentence caused the blonde's memory to flood back, and he wondered what he had been thinking when he spoke back out against the redhead.

"No, n-no, I don't want to leave!" Mello said urgently, his eyes widening further as felt Matt's hands tighten around his neck, cutting off his air slightly. He could feel the bruises forming underneath his delicate skin, and he let out a small, involuntary gasp for breath, his lungs attempting to expand and deflate as they normally did.

"Then why did you say that you did, Mello? Was there a reason? Do you like it when I'm angry?"

Mello shook his head, trying to wrack his memory, wondering why he did do it in the first place. However, he couldn't come up with anything, so all he could do was continue to stare at his abuser with large blue eyes, that 'deer-in-the-headlights' expression plastered all over his face.

"Please Matt, I-I'm sorry, okay?" he asked, trying to get his voice to remain calm, even Mello terrified into submission. This man held his life in his hands, and he was threatening to cut it off with the tightening of his fingers.

"You're sorry? For what? Why don't you _beg_ me to take you back, and I _might_ consider it."

"Please Matt, I-I'm sorry, really, I-I think it was just the fucking withdrawal taking or something, I-I didn't mean it, I—"

"I said _beg_," he interrupted, bringing his lips closer to Mello's ear.

"Please, please, please…t-take me back," he murmured, having to choke back his pride and dignity to be able to force those words out. He continued to convince himself that Matt really did love him…that he actually gave a fuck about what happened to him. Because, no matter what Matt did to him, no matter how much he hated the redhead at some points…Mello really had fallen for Matt. And sometimes, falling stung when there was nobody there to catch you.

"Why should I, Mello?" he asked, tugging on the blonde's hair to force them to lock eyes. "What do you ever do for me? Huh?"

Mello felt blood trickling down the side of his neck, and there was either a large gash there, or Matt had cracked his skull. He was really hoping it was the former, because right now, he couldn't tell one throbbing pain from another.

"I-I love you, M-Matt…" whispered the blonde man, his vision fading in and out, black dots dancing across his eyesight. This caused the redhead to let him go completely, leaving him lying limp on the floor, his sight fading to black now. The last thing he felt was a needle roughly being shoved into his neck, and liquid flooding his veins. He was satisfied…the cravings were gone.

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**End Note: **Woo...for flashbacks to explain how messed-up Mello is! Haha, I can't wait to write the next few chapters... ; 3 Drama FTW.

~FragilePuzzle


	23. Chapter 23

**A Quick Note To Flamers: **I'm not an author that has problems with flames. I'll admit it. However, I do have a problem with people that don't flame properly. Please, if you're going to flame, do it right. Sign in, you goddamn chicken. Use proper spelling and grammar. And most of all, instead of saying things like, "you suck" or "this story is stupid" TELL ME WHAT YOU HATE. Jesus. I know you want to pick apart all of the flaws, so please, I'm ASKING -- no, BEGGING you to do so.

And now, to the people who actually enjoy this story...sorry for wasting your time. : )

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_I see you windin' n grindin' up on that pole,_

_I know you see me lookin' at you and you already know_

_I wanna fuck you, fuck you, you already know_

_I wanna fuck you, fuck you, you already know, girl…_

Near was giving a customer a lap dance, his gray eyes dull and lifeless as they always were when he danced. He had gained three pounds in the past week or so, and it was now becoming Fall rather than Summer—which meant he would gain even more as the weather grew colder. However, his customers apparently enjoyed the fact that his figure had filled out slightly, even if it only was a fifth of an inch. He looked much healthier, his skin recovering as well, no longer dry and discolored, but soft and pale with a rosy hint underneath.

The petite boy noticed that this customer was relatively well-mannered. He would occasionally touch Near's back or ass, but other than that, he mostly just watched. He didn't make obscene comments or attempt to touch him underneath the scanty pair of panties that adorned his groin, nor did he try to get Near to touch him back. It was strange—however, he appeared to be a businessman or something of the like. He was wearing a pair of stylish glasses and a suit, and there was a briefcase resting next to the red chair he was sitting in.

_It's cool, we jet, the mood is set,_

_Your pussy is wet, you rubbing your back and touching your neck,_

_Your body is movin' you humpin' n jumpin' _

_Your titties is bouncin' you smilin' n grinin' n looking at me._

Tilting his head back, Near continued to dance seductively, occasionally running his hands up and down his own body, a small bead of sweat working its way down his forehead. After the song was over, he realized his time was up, and he turned to his customer, expecting to be paid.

"You're a very good dancer…" he chuckled, pulling out his wallet and handing Near seventy dollars—which was more than he was supposed to be paid. Now came the moral decision…should he keep it, or insist on giving some of it back?

Internally sighing, Near decided to give it back. While it might be nice to have an extra thirty dollars, he wouldn't feel right spending it. Damn conscience.

"This is too much," he said, pulling out only what he was supposed to be paid, holding the remainder out to the man. He stood there with his arm extended, shaking it softly, gesturing for the stranger to take his money back. However, neither of them made a move.

"Finally…somebody righteous…" laughed his customer, at long last standing up out of the chair, brushing some invisible dirt off of his suit as he bent down and picked up his briefcase.

"Somebody righteous?" Near repeated, raising an eyebrow oh-so-slightly. He didn't allow his facial expression to change other than this, but that didn't mean he wasn't slightly intrigued. He just knew how to control his emotions.

"I've been looking for somebody like you…" he said, taking another step towards Near, causing the small boy to take a step backwards. As much as he _was_ curious, that didn't mean he was stupid.

"Somebody…like me?"

"You're nothing but a stripper, but you still managed to do the right thing…how extraordinary," breathed Near's black-haired customer, the man taking the extra money out of his hand. "God…would be proud of you."

So he was some kind of religious fanatic. Now Near understood—however, he didn't like the way this man kept coming closer to him, so he took a few more steps back. As the stranger extended a hand and cupped his cheek slightly, a possessed look in his eyes, Near became slightly scared. Sure, he was used to dealing with mental patients, but he always had backup and protection if needed. It was a different situation when you were alone in a room with a mentally disturbed person.

"I-I have to go, now," he said, damning himself for stuttering, for showing a sign of weakness or nervousness. He didn't think that the man noticed, and if he did, there was really nothing Near could do about it now.

"Why don't you come with me? I can show you more about God," he said, looking at Near with eyes filled to the brim with pity. "He can help save you from this desolate life…do you really want to be a cheap whore forever? God is amazing, and He could save you from this."

"Really, I must go," Near insisted, clutching his money in his hand and pushing on the door, escaping the private room and entering back out into the regular part of the club. He was ogled by a few people because of his skimpy attire, but he didn't care. He just made his way past them, going over to the bar and finding Halle there—she managed the drink-serving on nights when Near decided to dance.

"I-I came over here to pay Halle back for lunch the other day," he said, scooting up on to a barstool and counting out the money he remembered her spending. "I just figured it was a way of thanking her…she may also keep the rest, towards the rent."

"Thanks hun, but really, that lunch was my treat," she smiled, pushing the money back towards Near.

"Please, just take it," he said, eager to get up to his room where he knew that man wouldn't find him. He was actually quite spooked as he peeked over his shoulder, and he had to struggle to keep his surfacing fear underneath his skin as he saw the man was making his way across the club, eyes locked directly on him.

"You sure, hun?"

"Yes. I believe I am going to retire for the night—"

The black-haired man sat down in the barstool next to the small boy, staring at him with piercing eyes. He hardly seemed to blink, and Halle only gave him a strange look as he began to casually talk to Near, as if he were friends with the small boy. It was obvious that Near was uncomfortable, and as he squirmed around in his seat, Halle finally got the message that he didn't want to be talking to this man, whoever he was.

"Near, why don't you go get some sleep or somethin'?" Halle suggested, keeping her eyes on the newfound visitor. "I gotta wake you up early tomorrow, so you'd best be getting' up there. I'll see you in the morning…"

"I am sorry, but I suppose I must be going," Near said quickly, hopping out of his stool and making his way over to the stairs that led up to the rooms. He didn't bother to look over his shoulder, so the petite boy didn't notice that the black-haired customer was following him until he heard the giveaway creak of the stairs as he allowed the man weight on to one of the wooden boards.

Near let out a small squeak of surprise as he turned around and saw that the man was nearly behind him, a camera in his hand. There was the clicking of a shutter as a few more pictures were taken of his surprised face.

"Hun, is somethin—hey, you ain't allowed to go up there!" she said, seeing that the black-haired man was following Near up the stairs. "Get outta my bar, and leave my dancers alone!"

The man hesitated before quickly making his way down the stairs, his camera clutched tightly to his chest, leaving both of their sights before either of them could say another word. Halle quickly walked over to Near, helping him up the rest of the stairs and into his bedroom, watching as he shakily sat down on his bed. He looked nervous enough, so Halle didn't say anything before she softly nodded and walked out of the room.

The first thing Near did was lock his door. Jesus Christ, how much longer would it be until he found Mihael?

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**End Note: **Next chapter... there shall be a large step in the movement of the plot. xD I just realized it's been kind of slow lately.

~FragilePuzzle


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: **God I hate Hannah Montana so much...so, so much.

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Mihi awoke, and for once, Matt was still asleep. The small boy was terrified that with one wrong noise, or even a right one, he would wake the redhead—his bruises and cuts were still healing from their last encounter, and Mihi certainly did not want another because Matt did not like to be woken up early. As he attempted to stand up, the bed creaked, and he stiffened in absolute terror.

However, the other man did not do so much as stir. Letting out the breath that he had been forgetting to exchange for fresh air, Mihi made his way up and out of the bed without any other problems.

The blonde was standing in front of the couch, nearly sitting down on it when something struck him—if Matt was asleep, he could sneak out and find Na-chi…yes! He could ask some people, and maybe he could even stop at a drugstore that Matt had told him so much about.

The redhead had bought him chocolate from there once…and he wanted _more_. It was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. He remembered when mommy bought him a chocolate bar once, but he never got to eat it because daddy did. That was okay now, though, because he could just go get some more…and Matt would never know.

There was silence as Mihi crept across the apartment, the blonde just _awaiting_ a noise that would wake his captor and get him a beating. However, even as he slipped out the door, not bothering to put shoes on, only grabbing a few dollars out of Matt's wallet that rested on the table—the redhead did not awaken.

He squeaked in excitement as he ran down the stairs in his sock feet, checking behind him every few seconds, his blonde locks messily flying about his face as he picked up his pace. Nearly stumbling and falling down a few times, but managing to catch himself, Mihi made it to the front doors of the ratty apartment building without a problem. His eyes widened as he looked upon the outside world, and like a child in a candy store, he quickly ran out to explore.

People gave him strange looks, but the blonde didn't mind. He was too busy staring at the beautiful blue sky. Sure, it was covered in a smokescreen of pollution, but he felt freer than he had ever been before. Dashing off down the sidewalk, he nearly barreled down a few people as he let a string of hyperactive giggles slip past his lips.

That was right. He had to look for Na-chi.

Mihi's eyes roamed the nearby street, finally landing on the front door of a drugstore. Maybe he would find Na-chi in there. He knew that the other man liked drugs, cause he was a doctor, and all of the doctors he knew used drugs in those scary syringes they were so fond of sticking in him.

Running across the street without checking for cars either way, Mihi screamed when he heard the blare of a car horn and the screech of burning rubber against the pavement.

"Watch where you're going, dumbass!" shrieked a woman, driving around the terrified blonde and speeding down to the corner of the block. Mihi blinked a few times before realizing he should get out of standing in the middle of road, and quickly ran over to the nearby sidewalk, still a bit startled from his encounter. However, that fear dissipated when he turned around and saw the drugstore, clapping his hands together before going inside.

Surprisingly enough, there was nobody inside, spare the black-haired cashier. He was apparently trying to open up the cash register, but he looked like he was having trouble - but as soon as he heard the blonde enter, he looked up with a sheepish smile on his face.

"Hello!" he grinned. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help you!"

Mihi walked up to the man, timidly resting his elbows on the counter, biting on his lower lip as he looked up at the cashier.

"Have you seen a white-haired doctor?" asked Mihi, crossing his fingers and hoping the answer was yes. "He's a little bit shorter than me and his name is Na-chi and I've been looking for him everywhere…but I can't find him."

"Well…lemme think," the cashier said, scratching at the back of his neck, looking up towards the ceiling. There was a few moments of silence, Mihi's heart pounding against his ribcage with anticipation, desperately hoping more than anything that the answer was yes. His tense face relaxed and fell when the man shook his head.

"Well…if you see him, could you tell him that Mihi is looking for him? I-I think he might be back at the doctor's where I was, but maybe he came out looking for me."

The cashier only smiled at this, nodding excitedly, looking quite enthusiastic about the prospect of being able to deliver an important message.

"Well…Matsuda," he started, looking at the man's name tag and slowly reading it, hoping that he had said it right. "I live at the apartment complex down the street, in apartment 573, so if he comes in, will you tell him to go there please?"

"Of course, Mihi!" chirped Matsuda, his peppy voice and bright smile causing a small grin to blossom on Mihi's face as well. "Is there anything else you need?"

Mihi hesitated for a moment. Was there anything else he needed?

"Right! I want a chocolate bar!"

"They're over there in that aisle," Matsuda said, pointing to a rack a few feet away, watching as the childish blonde man ran over and grabbed one, only to come back and hand it to him a moment later. Watching him type a few things into the cash register, Mihi hesitated for a moment. He had only been to the store with mommy a few times…so he wasn't exactly sure what to do at this point. All he knew was that it cost money to buy things - but how much money? Was he supposed to know?

"_Goddamnit Misa, what the fuck did you buy him chocolate for?!"_

"_Light, relax, it's only a chocolate bar…he fell and scraped his knee in the parking lot and he was crying--"_

"_So you bought him chocolate?!"_

"_I-I'm sorry, Light!"_

_Mihi clung to his mommy's hand with both of his petite ones, hiding his small frame behind her leg, his hair shamefully falling over his eyes. He shouldn't have cried. He could still feel blood dripping down his leg, the grit and dirt in his scrape stinging, but he shouldn't have cried. That way mommy wouldn't have felt bad for him and bought him the chocolate._

"_Just consider it his birthday present! It's his birthday tomorrow, Light…so it'll just be an early present!" his mommy tried to say, her large brown eyes fearful._

"_He's turning five, he doesn't need chocolate," the man hissed, snatching the chocolate from his mommy's hand. "Now fuck off, you dumb bitch."_

_Mihi's eyes stung with tears. He wished he could marry his mommy and take her away from here. He could make her happy. He would never even dream of being mean to mommy. He loved her too much._

"I-I don't want it anymore!" Mihi suddenly yelled, dropping the chocolate bar and running out the front door of the store, dashing back to his apartment building as fast as his legs could carry him.

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**End Note: **Yay for Oedipal complexes. X3 And I think that Mihi telling Matsuda his address might have been a mistake, but...XD

~FragilePuzzle


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: **Ugh.... ^ ^;;;; Hey guys. It's been a while, hasn't it? Well, I'm not sure if I'm back yet...I'm probably still on a hiatus of sorts. Life in general has been very difficult for me lately, and writing just doesn't seem to come in the same ways it used to. I'm fighting an uphill battle here, but...I think I might be updating every once and a while, now. : 3 So keep an eye out. Thank you, sincerely, for all of your patience.

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Near didn't know where to look for Mihi next. The white-haired man was virtually defeated in every way. He had tried bar after bar, store after store, person after person - and the two were nowhere to be found. As he walked down the street, the rubber soles of his shoes padding against the hard cement, he could feel his body ache a bit more with each step. Raising his eyes from where they had been so captivated by the cracked ground, they landed on a drugstore a few feet in front of him.

Sighing softly, he took a few more steps pushed open the door to the store, one of his petite hands raising to his forehead and rubbing at his temples before he allowed another small sigh to pass his lips. His head was throbbing and he needed some Aspirin, and it would be lovely if he could have some right about now.

Walking into the store, the doctor immediately found the aisle with all of the medicines and painkillers one could need. Quickly coming upon something for headaches, he picked it up and made his way over to the checkout counter, rubbing his temples again before handing the bottle to the man behind the cash register. The black-haired cashier took it with a wide smile, his curious brown eyes only darting over his white locks and porcelain skin before turning back to the register, fulfilling his duties with a satisfying 'ka-ching' as the slide-out drawer popped open.

"That'll be three-fifty-two please!" he grinned, looking at the man up and down once again. "Would you like a bag with that?"

"No, I believe I am fine," Near murmured, pulling out the wallet he kept in the back pocket of his loose white pants, grabbing a five-dollar bill and handing it to the man. "Please keep the change…"

However, it was then that Near had some desperate hope. Maybe, some way, some how, Mihael and Matt had dropped by this store. As small as the chances were, maybe this man had seen them somewhere - after all, they had been on television quite a lot lately, what with the police searching for them, so there would be a bigger chance of him recognizing the two.

"May I ask…Matsuda a question?" the small boy questioned, a bit of eagerness in his voice. "I am searching for somebody - his name is Mihael Keehl, but he also goes by the names of Mello and Mihi…?"

"Hm…no, I don't think I know anybody by that name!"

"Ah," replied Near, obvious disappointment in his voice. "Well…Matsuda's information is appreciated."

Turning on his heel with his newfound painkillers in hand, Near walked back out on to the polluted streets of the city, immediately popping open the bottle, swallowing a few of the large pills dry. He couldn't understand why he was putting so much effort and time into searching for Mihael. Were the feelings he held for him really those of love? Could it really be possible to feel so much for somebody he had hardly known? Medical files and psychoanalysis didn't mean much when he was nowhere near himself - when he couldn't figure it out for himself. It was like being given a robot, in a strangely metaphorical way. You knew its code, but you felt a sort of hollow emptiness.

Almost as though you wish it had come without instructions or restrictions…

Well, now the man was confusing himself with symbolism that was too deep for him to fathom. Or maybe it wasn't symbolism at all, only useless babbling. Either way, he had to stop it and get back on track. Checking the watch that adorned his thin wrist, he saw that he had a few hours before he had to go back to Halle's bar. Just great. He had nothing to do, and too much time to kill.

However, the silent train of his thought was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder, and he was immediately spun around to see the cashier from inside of the drugstore.

"Wait!" he yelled, as though he was chasing after Near, despite the fact he was standing absolutely still not three inches away from him. "I-I know who you're talking about! A-A blonde man! He has…like, a bob-cut type of hair! He's pretty tall, but I-I guess he just acts like a kid! I _know_ who you're talking about!"

Near's eyes widened, a bursting feeling in his chest. However, he tried to keep his excitement contained as he awaited any more information the black-haired man might have. Maybe it was the wrong person, and maybe he didn't have any more information, maybe he just -

"He lives in…um…he lives in…wait right here, I wrote it down!"

Matsuda ran inside of the drugstore for a mere moment before he came back out, triumphantly holding a piece of paper in his fist.

"This is the address!" he exclaimed, thrusting it towards Near. All the doctor could see was the number '573' on it, and when he looked back up, expecting an explanation of some sort, it seemed as though the cashier was more than ready to give him one.

"He lives in an apartment down the street - that's his number!"

"Thank…t-thank…"

Near didn't say anything else before he snatched the paper from the cashier's hand, taking off down the street and staring at the number, even though he had already memorized it. This was it. This was _it._ He was finally going to be able to get to Mihael.

Within a few moments of aimless wandering, he saw a large building that he realized to be an apartment. The petite man picked up the pace as he neared the complex, practically running as he reached the front door, his ears being hit with the high-pitched shriek of rusty springs and un-oiled hinges as he pulled it open. He barely had any time to take in how shoddy and run-down the place was before he was dashing up the stairs, not having the patience to wait for the elevator.

When Near finally reached the fifth floor, he took off down the '50-99' hallway, arriving in front of the door that had the rusted false-bronze plaque with the number '573' clearly imprinted on it. The doctor could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, and with a lump in his throat, he raised his hand to knock on the door. He didn't even think of what would happen if the much stronger Matt opened the door instead - he just wanted to get to Mihi and get to him now.

However, even after several knocks, there was no answer.

Several more, still no answer.

After about twenty more rapid-fire knocks without a sound or stir from inside of the apartment, Near began to give up hope. This must be the wrong apartment. Maybe Mihi wasn't even in this building anymore. Maybe the cashier was just some teenage prankster that thought it would be funny to get his hopes up by giving him a random apartment number.

Near was suddenly so upset, he wanted to scream and cry at the same time, feeling his hopes of finding Mihael simply seeping out of his chest. However, he did neither. He had to keep calm. Allowing his emotions to get the best of him would do no good in this situation - no good for him and no good for anybody else. So, instead of kicking the wall like he wanted to, the petite man simply raised a hand and twisted a snowy-white lock of hair around his thin finger.

It was possible that the cashier had just been playing some sort of sick prank on him...but then again, it was also possible that maybe he had got the wrong building. Maybe they weren't home. It was getting slightly late, so they could have gone to do any number of things.

Slowly walking away from the apartment door, the doctor allowed the cogs in his mind to crank relentlessly as he made his way down the dingy staircase. He'd come back tomorrow.

---x---

Matt kept his hand firmly planted over Mihi's mouth, not batting an eyelash when the blonde tried to bite him. After a sharp jab in the gut, he immediately stopped that behavior. Now all that was left was to wait...that goddamned doctor had found them somehow. He didn't know how. But one thing was for sure - he had found where they were.

It was half an hour until the redhead finally released his tight grip on his blonde captive. Mihi's body shook as he stood up, his lower lip quivering slightly. Looking at Matt with betrayed eyes, he lightly tried to gasp for breath, unable to take much of one as his nerves seemed to pulse with fear and despair.

"That was Na-chi..." he said softly, covering one of his hands with his mouth, as though he were going to be sick. Come to think of it, he was. Quickly running over to the garbage can in the kitchen area of the one-room apartment, he emptied the few contents of his stomach into the plastic bag, the only sound in the apartment his heavy breathing as he strained to recapture his even respiration.

"No it wasn't," the redhead said simply, standing and wiping his hand on his pants. "Now. Why don't you tell me how somebody knew we were here. Apparently, they knew you. Mihi? Is that a common nickname? Hm. It's funny."

"M-Matt, I...I didn't t-tell anybody..." insisted the blonde, his voice shaky as he stood again.

"Are you sure about that? I think you're lying, Mello."

"Nobody knows we're here...I-I promise...pinky promise!"

Slowly holding out his pinky, hoping Matt would forget and forgive, Mihi cried out slightly as Matt took his pinky and roughly gripped it with his own - twisting it beyond it's normal range of movement with a small pop.

"I believe you..." he chuckled softly, running his fingertips over the many bruises and infected injection sites on he blonde's arms. "They're gone now, so it doesn't matter, right?"

Mihi nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, staring up at the other man with wide eyes.

"Wrong."

---x---

As soon as Near arrived outside of the large building, he sighed again. This was so sickening. He had been trying for so long...maybe he wasn't ever going to find the blonde. For all he knew, he could be dead somewhere. Even though police hadn't said they found any bodies - and they were still on the lookout for him - maybe...just maybe he was rotting in some ditch somewhere. Who knew? This could just be some wild goose chase, and Mihi and Mello and Mihael and Matt had traveled on to some city far beyond this one.

Shaking his head, Near knew this was no time to doubt himself. There was a lead in this city somewhere, and he wasn't going to stop until he found it.

It was only then that the white-haired man noticed how late it was getting. His shift at the club started soon - shit! He was going to be late if he didn't hurry, and with that thought in mind, the doctor picked up his pace slightly.

"Excuse me..."

The petite man was roused from his thoughts by another deep request.

"I'd like to ask you for directions, please."

"I am afraid I do not know this city very - "

As Near turned around, his eyes widened. He recognized that man, the smile on his face sending shivers up his spine. Before he had time to run or yell for help or try and fend off his attacker, a cloth was wrapped around his face, the smell of chloroform burning his eyes and nose. Struggling for breath, he choked as he inhaled some of the chemical, setting his lungs on fire.

There was a sharp pain in the back of his head. Then there was darkness.

---x---

With a look akin to a happy, curious kitten on his face, Matsuda made his way up the creaking apartment stairs. They sagged slightly underneath his weight, but he barely noticed - he was too excited. He had been the one to help reunite two people...or so he thought. That was why he was there, anyways. He had to check and make sure they found each other alright.

Arriving at apartment 573, the black-haired man raised his hand and knocked on the plain wooden door a few times, hoping for an answer.

---x---

Looking up as he heard a knock on the door, Matt growled slightly. He was already upset as it was. Playtime had been interrupted once again - goddamnit, these people just didn't know how to leave him alone. Chrissakes. Here he was...his favorite doll in hand...and mommy just had to call for help with the dishes.

Dropping the unconscious Mihi on to the creaky bed, Matt walked over to the door. Since there was no peephole, he had no choice but to open the door fully, staring into the face of a black-haired man. He looked like an eager little puppy or something. The sight sickened him

"I'm looking for Mihi?"

Before he even had time to think, Matt grabbed on to the front of the man's shirt, yanking him into the apartment and slamming the door behind him. Angrily shoving him up against the wall of the apartment, the redhead's voice was low and dangerous as he spoke.

"Where. Do. You. Know. Mihi. From?"

Matt smiled. The stranger didn't.

"I-I...he stopped by the store, y-you see...a-and he...h-he asked me t-to let somebody k-know h-he was looking f-for them...!"

"Who?"

"N-Na-chi...some d-doctor with white hair! That's all I-I know, I-I s-swear!"

Matsuda's eyes widened as he caught sight of the either sleeping, knocked-out, or dead blonde on the bed. Mihi...

Putting two and two together, Matsuda immediately shrieked and tried to struggle away. No wonder the blonde had seemed so scared. He was apparently being held captive by this nutcase. Judging by the swollen lumps on the man's arms and the dirtied needles lying all over the kitchen counter, there was a good reason why he was staying as well.

"Stop fucking screaming...I swear...you're all useless."

Matt didn't hesitate before using his physical strength to his advantage, slamming the stranger up against the wall and watching as he slid to the floor. But now he was mad. The redhead couldn't even remember the last time he had been so furious...for some reason or another...the anger just wouldn't stop bubbling, struggling, threatening to burst from his chest. He had absolutely no control over this animalistic fury.

God, did he love it.

Cackling lightly, he grabbed a knife off of a nearby end table, blindly stabbing at the squealing man below him. Slowly, his sounds heightened - and then stopped completely. But Matt would tell by the small twitches that the stranger's body was taken over by...he wasn't dead. Allowing his rage to continue to consume him, he became even more feral, not only using the knife - but his teeth and fists and nails as well.

Only pulling away when his hands were stained with warm liquids and his excited breathing was making it hard for him to breathe, Matt finally observed the carnage. Not batting an eyelash, he simply pulled himself away from the man, stripping his toned frame of his bloodied clothes. After redressing himself, he decided it was time to deal with Mello.

---x---

"Pictures, pictures, pictures..." murmured the man, allowing his large camera to flash a few times, the bulb loudly clicking each time. Sure, the photo-taking device was certainly old, but it took such beautiful pictures. Beautiful pictures of beautiful models. He could show God his beautiful pictures, someday. They always made his creations look so perfect.

Murmuring softly, Near cracked open his eyes, his head pounding furiously. After coughing softly, he was rudely awakened further with the bright flash of a camera in his face. Shifting and bringing his hands in front of his face to try and shield himself, he could feel soft material rubbing against his skin. Where was he...?

Closing his eyes before opening them again, allowing them to focus, the petite man was finally able to take in his surroundings. He was lying on the floor of a small room, the brick walls covered with prints and Polaroid photos of many different people. They were all very exquisite-looking - not a single average or ugly person to be seen, based upon physical appearances. While they were mostly women, there were occasionally a few men here and there...but the one thing the subjects all had in common was the fact that nobody was smiling. They all looked...scared.

Shaking his head slightly and forcing himself to stop analyzing the room until he found out more about where he was, Near looked around once again. He was on top of a white canvas that sprawled a few feet in each direction, as well as covering the wall behind him. It reminded the white-haired man of the backgrounds at photo shoots for magazine covers or famous models.

"Good, you're finally awake. God knows his creatures need to sleep, but they also need to be awake, so God can see their beautiful eyes. Eyes, eyes, eyes...eyes are so beautiful, don't you agree?"

Staring up at the man who was speaking, Near's lips parted to take in a slightly surprised gasp as his memories came flooding back to him.

"Delete!" the man suddenly yelled angrily, after another bright flash lit up Near's shaking frame. As the small boy traced his eyes up to the man's face, he could see that he was tightly gripping a camera in his hand, looking at the digital image it was projecting. The small LCD lit up his face in the soft lights of the room, a surprising contrast to the otherwise peaceful feel.

"That picture was terrible...God would not like it. I'll just have to wait until you're first waking up again to take another. No matter. I will never give up...God does not accept quitters. Besides, I must show God beauty...then, he will notice me above all his other pitiful disciples. God will love me for showing him such beauty...yes."

Near had no choice but to lie still as the man continued to snap photos, his gray eyes blurring over after a few flashes of the bulb. Every time he opened his mouth to speak, the man would hiss at him, forcing him to close it again. Where was he, and most importantly, where was Mihael?

* * *

**End Note: **: D Now's when the story gets to its climax, in my opinion, anyways. ^ ^ I hope you're looking forward to the next chapter!

~FragilePuzzle


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: **Thank you guys for your support. : 3 It means the world to me.

* * *

Mihael slowly opened his eyes, feeling slightly lightheaded. Where was he…? Even after looking around the room and sitting up on the creaky, rusty bed, he didn't recognize his surroundings. That was…odd. It was an apartment - that was for sure. But it couldn't have been his. Wait…why was he out of Wammy's? Where was Near…? What was going _on_ here?

Standing up off of the bed, the blonde quickly noted his throbbing arms that hurt each time he moved. As he traced his blue eyes over them, he recognized that there were many red-and-yellowish-green lumps on them. Infected something-or-rathers. God, he was so confused. He had to get out of here and find out where he was.

Quickly walking over to the front door, he barely noted what he was wearing before expertly lacing up a pair of tennis shoes that were resting next to the door. They were a few sizes too big for his feet, but that was the last thing he was concerned with. Grabbing a jacket, he exited the room and made his way into the hallway of the building.

A few minutes later, he was standing outside for the first time in god-knows-how-long. Somehow, the scene looked familiar, but he couldn't quite recall from exactly where. However, first things first. Mihael know he needed help. While Mihi might not have realized it, and Mello might not have accepted it, Mihael easily admitted it. He didn't know where he was, he was starving - though all food sounded disgusting - and one of his other personalities could arise at any time. That would put both himself and other at risk…and that was the last thing he wanted.

Taking off at a brisk pace down the street, ignoring any looks from passerby, Mihael felt himself stumble every now and then. It was as though all of those people staring at him…just staring…it was as though they could sense he didn't belong with them. The circles under his eyes, his messy blonde locks, the stiffly erratic movements must have been a dead giveaway. But it hurt so badly to move, it didn't matter anyways.

A few blocks later, Mihael arrived outside a simple-looking bar. It looked as though there weren't many people inside, but the neon sign clearly read "open," which was more than he could say for the few other non-residential buildings he had happened upon earlier. There was a corner store surrounded be police, a broken-down gas station, and a closed nightclub. He almost considered asking the police, but when he remembered he wasn't in the asylum anymore - he wondered if he had done anything he might regret.

Quickly entering the bar, Mihael looked around, immediately spotting a curvy woman with short black hair and plump, cherry-red lips. She was sitting on a barstool, quietly sipping a drink and humming, obviously slightly buzzed as she laughed to herself. But when she heard Mihael enter, she turned her head more fully to look at him.

"Hey there, hon," she said, beckoning the blonde over with a cocked finger and a seductive tone. "What're you doing here so early? No work, or just not enough play?"

"Where exactly…where am I?" the blonde asked immediately, desperate for some sort of answer as he walked further into the bar. As the woman got a better look at him, her eyes widened considerably, and Mihael wondered what was wrong….he really didn't look that worse-for-wear, did he?

"I've seen a picture of you before!" she exclaimed, pressing her middle fingers delicately to her temples as she tried to think. "Oh god…where was that? I know I've seen it more than once…"

Just as Mihael was about to speak up, she lifted a single finger to silence him.

"I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

The woman then ran up the stairs that were next to the bar counter, unlocking the door at the top and disappearing. Mihael could hear her footsteps above his head as he took a seat at the barstool, rubbing at his eyes. God was he tired. All he wanted to do was go back to Wammy's, be back with Near, and get some _help_. Where was Near, anyways? The last thing Mihael remembered was making love to him and falling asleep - anything beyond that was an empty, blank, and dark-as-fuck void.

He was getting upset with himself now; wanting to remember so badly, but he tried to keep it under control. Who knows where he might end up if he got angry or desperate and Mello or Mihi decided they'd be more adept to dealing with the situation? He didn't have the energy to fend them off right now, and he doubted he could gather it up.

Keeping that thought in mind, Mihael began to breathe more calmly, just as Near had taught him. Breathe deeply through his nose, until he could feel his chest tightening…then exhale through his mouth…better.

As he continued to calmly breathe, the blonde only awaited the woman's return. He didn't have to wait for too much longer when he heard her coming down the stairs. The black-haired bartender - whom he assumed was a bartender because she had the keys to upstairs - quickly sat down next to him, a cheap-looking picture frame in hand. Looking at it, Mihael realized he recognized it all-too-well.

"I knew I saw you a few times…Near keeps this picture up in his room, next to his bed. I've been in there a few times to check up on him and stuff, and it's weird, 'cause this is the only picture he has in there. It's really the only thing personal at all - so I guess it just stuck out to me. But this is you, right?"

"It's…me…Near…"

"Where do you two know each other?" she asked eagerly, pouring the blonde a drink to keep himself relaxed while he explained his story. However, when the blonde placed the rim of the glass to his lips, tipping it up and allowing the alcohol to wash over his taste buds, he suddenly remembered when he had tasted the stinging bitterness of liquor for the first time.

Matt.

Clubs.

Sex. Drugs. Sweat. Blood. Needles. It was all flooding back to him now. He felt so weak…defenseless…

"_Tell him, bitch. Tell him."_

_Mihi watched his mommy's eyes water, wondering what was wrong. He blinked a few times, looking up at her and wondering why he had been called down to the living room. Was it because he had been a bad boy again?_

"_Mihi…I don't love you," she said, her voice nearly silent, shaking with each syllable._

_There was silence for a few moments. Mommy didn't love him? Was it April Fools day? Had he done something wrong?_

"_B-but I love you, mommy…" he said softly, looking at her with absolute confusion. "I-I love you a lot…did I do something wrong?"_

_Misa could feel her husband twisting the tip of the knife into her back, and she knew she had to continue. It was only to protect her son, after all. It was for the best…no matter how much it hurt._

"_Yes. You're a terrible son. I don't love you anymore."_

_It was obvious by the look in Mihi's eyes that he didn't understand. His mouth opened and it appeared as though he was going to say something, but he couldn't get out any words. He didn't understand this at all. But his mommy sounded like she meant it._

"_I-I love you mommy…" repeated Mihi, looking back and forth between daddy and mommy, suddenly feeling very alone. Like he had nobody to depend on anymore. He was all alone now…because his mommy didn't love him. As soon as the small boy allowed this thought to run through his head, he understood. _

_It felt like he was going to wretch. He wanted to die. His eyes were filling with tears and he didn't even notice as they rolled down his cheeks. Stumbling forward a few steps, wrapping his arms around his mommy's stomach, he wondered what he had done._

"_I'm sorry mommy! I'm so sorry! I won't be a bad son anymore! I won't be bad, I promise! Please love me again! I'm sorry!"_

"_Hit him…" whispered Light, ripping the blonde woman's clothes. "Shove him to the floor."_

_Misa did as she was told, slapping her son across the face before shoving him roughly to the floor, watching as he landed wrong on his shoulder and a loud popping resounded throughout the room._

"_I'm sorry mommy!! I'm so sorry!!" he whimpered, dime-sized tears rolling down his face, attempting to crawl back over to his mother once again, pain wracking throughout his body._

"_So am I…" Misa softly whispered, feeling Light jam the tip of the knife into her flesh as a tear rolled down her round cheek. After a moment, when she watched her son extend a hand to reach up to her, desperate for some kind of help…all she could do was close her eyes and kick his hand away, hearing another crack as one of his weak bones snapped._

"NO!" Mello screamed, holding his hands over his ears and standing from the barstool, desperate for some sort of relief for these flashbacks. God, he was weak. He couldn't stand it. Why?

"_Mihael, are you having a fun birthday party?"_

"My name is not Mihael!!"

"_I'll bet you are, with all these great gifts!"_

"Mommy doesn't love me anymore!" cried Mihi, his body desperately shaking as he was revealed to memories that Mello had always kept him safe from. "That's not a gift! My mommy hit me yesterday! Mello?! Mello?! Mello, please help me!! Mello, mommy hurt my arm!! Mello?!"

"_Daddy's gonna be mad, daddy's gonna be mad…he's gonna be so mad…"_

"_Who cares if daddy's mad? I sure don't, and you shouldn't either, Mihi…heh…"_

"Get out!" shrieked Mihael, shaking his head desperately, as though that would somehow protect him from the horrors inside of his head. He stumbled a few steps, ignoring the horrified look of the bartender as she watched him break down. "Jesus Christ, this isn't your body! It's mine, goddamnit!"

"Mihael, why don't you love me anymore?" whimpered Mihi, gasping desperately for breath, clutching at his chest.

"You're so weak!" Mello roared, clutching on to his blonde bangs and tugging on them, clenching his fists as he tossed them down to his sides and stood up straight. "Both of you!"

"_Misa?! Misa?!"_

"_Congratulations…I had fun at my party…"_

"MOMMY!"

"_I love Mihi…"_

That was the last thing Mihael, Mello, or Mihi heard before everything went dark.

---x---

"Halle!" Takada suddenly shrieked, dropping the picture frame on to the hard floor, not noticing as the glass shattered. All she wanted was for the much stronger blonde woman to come…and help her handle the situation, or just…do _something._

The chesty blonde was out in the room before Mihael could even blink, his eyes glazed over, his pupils contracting and dilating wildly. Within a split second, she was standing over by her female employee, recognizing who the blonde was without any need for Takada to explain it.

Halle stared in amazement as she watched the blonde man crumple and fall to the floor, his body letting out a few small spasms. However, she didn't waste much time before gingerly picking him up and lugging him up the stairs, taking him into the first bedroom on the left - Near's bedroom. She eagerly looked around for something that could be used to restrain him, should he wake up and feel any more of his violent urges, or try to escape. The only thing the woman saw, however, were the many lengths of sheer and silky material that Near adorned while dancing. Those would have to do.

Boy, she really never thought that tying up an escaped mental patient with stripper clothes would be a job she'd be performing in her lifetime. But then again, life has a tendency to surprise one like that.

Quickly fastening the man's wrists and ankles to the bed with the soft material, Halle pulled back and observed her work. Certainly, the many knots were messy, but it would have to do until she could find something more permanent. Besides, it wasn't as though she had long to wait...Near was already late, so it was likely that he'd show up any second.

Staring at the tied-up man, Halle felt slightly bad - almost as though she were committing some heinous act. But, what with Near had told her about this man…he could be dangerous and unpredictable. Better safe then sorry. Now all she had to do was wait for Near to get back.

Seeing Mihael begin to stir, she hoped it would be soon.

* * *

**End Note: **Dun dun dun...Mihael is safe...for now...and now all that's left is to get Near! Be on the lookout for the next chapter! ; D

~FragilePuzzle


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: **Two more chapters... : D If you're curious, the next story I'm planning on finishing is Thief.

* * *

Near awoke with a sudden boom, his heart racing as adrenaline pumped through his veins. However, as he blinked a few times, he realized that the sound was simple one of his captor's poorly-placed camera stands tipping over and clattering to the floor.

Of course, this hadn't been the first time he was awakened by something like this. It seemed as though he had been so unbelievably jumpy lately. It wasn't as though his captor was treating him particularly badly, per say - in fact, he was being treated relatively well. Mikami fed him, bathed him, even brushed his hair…but it had only been a few days. God knows what would happen when the man tired of him, deciding there were no more pictures he needed. He wasn't just going to let him go willy-nilly. Mikami might have been off his rocker but he certainly wasn't stupid.

However, Near needed Mihael. No matter what…he was so close, now. So close to finding him, after all of that hard work.

"Why…?" Near murmured softly, standing up off of the floor where he was constantly forced to lie. "Why….do I want Mihael so badly?"

Almost on cue, Mikami popped around the corner, probably having heard the floor creak as Near stood. He was quite the light sleeper, and he could awake in seconds.

"Good morning, dear," the man whispered, walking over to Near and cupping his cheek in his hand. He always treated Near so gently. As though he would simply break and shatter with the smallest of touches. However, the next comment the man uttered caused Near's blood to grow cold - no matter how roughly Mikami could have handled him, nothing would prepare him for this to be brought back up.

"Hm…I suppose you'll have to lose a few pounds. There's an outfit you would look so beautiful in…made by some of God's finest creatures. Silkworms, such hard workers, making beauty for the rest of us. The material is raw and un-dyed but by my own hands, a beautiful red and gold…no nasty human touch to ruin it. But I'm afraid you'll have to be just a bit thinner for your full beauty to be exposed…"

"_L, this is not appropriate…" Near murmured, taking a step back from his teacher. "I am training to become a doctor that deals with the mental aspect of people, not the physical. There is no excuse for having me do this."_

_The petite boy's mentor said nothing as he reached forward and began to tug at his shirt, stripping him of the bothersome material a moment later. However, unlike usual, he made no move to unbutton the boy's pants. Instead, he ran his hands over his pale stomach, spidery digits a cool contrast to his warm skin._

"_You've gained weight," he stated bluntly, pushing Near up against the life-sized replica of the Vitruvian man that decorated the wall - used by his medical students._

"_I realize that…"_

_L didn't speak as he reached over on to the nearby counter, pulling out a large, black marker. It reeked of strong chemicals, and Near could see the large 'permanent' that decorated its side. Slowly, the older doctor approached him, beginning to trace lines along his skin. After he was done, he met Near's eyes once again._

"_Fix yourself. Then come back to me. I refuse to teach…those whom do not meet my criteria."_

"Such beauty, it shouldn't be wasted. Petite…small, breakable bones. God obviously favored you when he was creating, didn't he? Ugly people say God doesn't play favorites, but it's obvious that He does…or why would He bestow upon some the gift of beauty and not others? They…only say that to try and persuade themselves somebody loves them. Their ugliness makes it impossible for anyone to love them, you see? So they find hope in their false God…the real God values such true beauty and purity, don't you think?"

Near suddenly felt like vomiting, Mikami's words ricocheting in his brain. Without his mind's consent, one of his hands traveled down to his stomach, feeling the way his figure had filled out. Slowly, his hand drifted down further, running over his thighs, gripping the ever-so-slight curves in the palm of his hand.

"Though I do quite enjoy your frame for some outfits, they certainly aren't suitable for this one. We'll just have to put you on a diet. God will love you so much more when you show him just how beautiful you really are."

The white haired man nodded. Even as Mikami walked back into his photo lab to check the shots from the previous night before going to get dressed, leaving Near alone in the main room, Near still didn't move. After another moment, he walked over to the mirror and looked at his reflection.

He wouldn't help but be disgusted by what he saw.

---x---

Halle held her head tightly in the palms of her hands, fingers moving up to rub circles against her temples a moment later. It was obvious to Takada, who was sitting right next to her, how much stress the blonde woman had been forced to bear lately. She had to deal with Near's sudden disappearance, as well as Mihael's arrival. When he wasn't rapidly flipping between his personalities, he was twitching and shivering and occasionally throwing up - as though he were sick. Halle desperately wanted to call a doctor to help him, but she knew she could be charged with kidnapping and god knows what else if they police found out she was keeping Mihael here against his will.

So, she really had no other choice but to look for Near. He would know what to do with Mihael…wouldn't he? Of course - he had to have some sort of plan for what would happen when he finally got the man back, right?

However, the real questions were more along the lines of "where the hell did Near go?" and "why did he leave without so much as a word?"

Maybe he didn't leave…

Maybe he was taken against his will.

No, now she was just grasping at straws. Near wouldn't allow himself to go into one of the worst parts of town. He was smarter than that…though Halle knew he had been wandering around, talking to people and trying to figure out where Mihael was. Perhaps…he had talked to the wrong person, or taken the wrong shortcut down some dark alley. Who knew?

Suddenly standing up, Halle decided something quickly. Surprisingly quickly, in fact, considering how much doubt had twisted itself in her chest over the past few days - but she knew Near, at least a little bit, and he wasn't the type to just up and leave without so much as a post-it note stuck on the fridge. Now was the time to look for him. She could at least ask around. But where to start? The petite man could be almost anywhere in the city.

Thinking back to possible places Near could be, some disturbing images wormed their way into the blonde's memory. They did get some pretty creepy customers at the bad, and kidnapping wasn't exactly an unusual occurrence around these parts. There was always the man who had tried to force Near into his lap…the man who had tried to follow Near up to his room - but the man who had tried to force Near into his lap had been a relatively regular customer at the bar. She had seen him before the incident and she'd seen him again since.

But that other man…only once. She was sure she'd remember somebody like him.

Just as Halle was about to ponder the situation further, she heard chokes, thumps, and gurgled screams from upstairs. Her eyes widened as she quickly made her way over to the stairs, running up them two at a time and arriving in Near's room - seeing Mihael thrashing violently on the bed.

"Oh god!"

Going over to the man, she untied him and moved out of the way as he promptly stood, collapsed to his knees, and vomited all over the floor. The only further sounds in the room were Mihael gasping for breath as his body shook and his stomach gurgled, causing him to throw up again. The woman watched as goosebumps ran up and down the man's arms, his voice hoarse as one of his strong hands gripped on to her leg.

"H-help…" he whimpered, his words young and helpless. "N….Nnna-chi….can m-make my throat feel better. My tummy hurts…get Na-chi…p-please…"

Now Halle knew what she had to do. Not only for herself, but for the two men that were depending on her as well.

---x---

Matt was seething. He ground his teeth together, impatiently crossed and uncrossed his legs that were resting on the coffee table, and lit up a fresh cigarette every fre minutes.

His Mello…._his_ goddamn Mello.

Standing up off of the creaky and beaten couch, the redhead immediately walked over to the fridge, not thinking before he tugged open the freezer door. His nose wrinkled and he gagged slightly before slamming the door shut again, slightly thankful that his goggles had been there to protect his eyes. Why the fuck did dead bodies have to stink so fucking much?

However, a small grin played on the man's face as he thought about how satisfying the feeling of the knife slicing through warm flesh had been. He'd have to cut that idiot visitor up, not that he minded too much, but getting all of those body parts in the freezer in order to hide the stench hadn't been an easy task.

Almost on cue, Matt watched as the news flashed on to his TV, the eager-looking anchorwoman reporting on a missing cashier.

"_Touta Matsuda has officially been reported as a missing person - he is about five-foot-seven and weighs about one-hundred-and-thirty pounds. He has black hair and dark brown eyes - and he was last seen in his work uniform, leaving his job as a cashier. If you have seen this man, please call 555-4007."_

Chuckling maliciously, Matt shook his head and opened the fridge, immediately becoming angry once again as he realized there was no food left. Then his mind drifted back to thoughts about Mello, and he narrowed his eyes underneath the yellowish-orange lenses of his goggles.

No, he just had to bide his time. There wasn't a need to go to looking for him, or even to get angry. All he had to do was sit back, relax, and wait. Mello was really nothing more than a child. He had been in an asylum almost his entire life - he wouldn't know how to survive out in the real world. He wouldn't know where to hide or who to turn to…always needing to be babied.

All Matt had to do was wait for the blonde to come crawling back to him. Maybe he'd get caught before that happened, but it didn't matter. Even if it meant breaking back into the asylum, he'd get Mello.

Whether it was the easy way or the hard way.

---x---

Halle had narrowed down her list of suspects now. Gathering information from what Near had previously told her, and what Mihi had explained to her - as she had been spending more time with the blonde man, but Mello had only screamed at her - she had managed to come up for four primes.

Matt, who was the main blame-bearer. However, based on what Mihi told her, she wouldn't want to visit him alone.

The man who had tried to force Near into his lap, whom Halle just had a bad feeling about. She was planning on talking to him when he came to the bar later that night - since he did seem like a regular, and it was a Friday night.

The man who had tried to follow Near up to his room, and while it was unlikely she'd be able to find information about this man, it didn't mean she'd give up on him.

Every other street thug, mugger, kidnapper, rapist, and murderer in the tri-city area.

….at least she was closer than where she started. Not to mention she could dig down dirty and find out more about the main three suspects first. Even if it turns out that it _wasn't_ one of them, maybe she'd be able to find out about any other possible kidnappers.

Or just where Near was. Maybe he wasn't kidnapped at all.

Whatever the situation, she had to start looking - as soon as possible. So, leaving Takada in charge of Mihi for the night, Halle pulled her hair up into a low ponytail and grabbed a tube of her cherry-red lipstick from beneath the bar. With a set of expertly-performed moves that showed just how many times she had done them before, the woman popped off the cap of the cosmetics, flicked her wrist to twist the makeup to the top, and swiped it over her plump lips.

Sighing and closing her eyes before taking a deep breath, Halle looking up and smiled at the customers that were slowly trickling into the bar.

---x---

Halle trudged back to her room upstairs, feeling both defeated and triumphant at the same time. While she had, through a series of drinks and relentless questions, found that the man who had tried to grope Near definitely didn't kidnap him. It wasn't that he was a nice guy or any of that - no he was definitely a douche - but he was simply too stupid to execute anything that needed any skill or brains.

No, it hadn't been him, but that was also a good thing. It meant she had two more main suspects left.

---x---

The next night, Halle struck gold. A few drunken men had come in, obviously trashed from their earlier expeditions that night - and it just so happened that one of them was quite the loud talker, and found it amusing to talk about everything he'd seen over the past few weeks.

"I saw that cashier!" he roared, yukking it up like it was an amusing thing. "I bought condoms there once - XXL, if you know what I mean!"

After he made a few more jokes about how big his penis was, he continued on with another story.

"And I saw somebody get _kidnapped."_

Halle's ears perked up.

"Some little babe with light blonde curly hair. Pretty short. She was real small, I see why that man was able to get 'er so easily. I know I'd tap that if I could - "

"E'scuse me," Halle said sweetly, walking up to the table after letting her hair down, holding a few drinks in each of her hands. "You said you saw a girl get ki'napped? Ain't that terrible?"

"Yeah, I saw it," the loud man announced, looking Halle up and down. "What's it to you?"

"Well, mah daughter left a few nights ago, and I just ain't seen her since," she said, putting on her thick southern drawl she had acquired as a child. Lots of people said it was charming. "She's so tiny and 'dorable, only seventeen. She has curly blonde hair, that's what she got from her daddy I'm betting, even though I don' remember who he is…and she's so small. You seen her anywhere?"

The loud man roared at this, beginning to laugh again, his bloodshot eyes crinkling somewhat.

"Looks like she's got a new boyfriend…tall with long black hair and glasses. Thinks he's slick wearing a trench coat. You should'a told her not to go running around streets where she doesn't belong."

"Oh tha's just….Steven," she said, laughing and setting the drinks on the table for the men. "I'll ha' to have a talk with that girl, she ain't goin' nowhere if she keeps datin' him, I swear…thank ya'll, now this round's on the house, alright?"

With a fake smile still plastered on her face, Halle went back behind the bar, silently serving more customers. It was that man…tall, black hair, glasses, and a trench coat. It was him alright.

* * *

**End Note: **Oooooh....-suspenseful music- What shall happen next? o . o What are Matt's real feelings towards Mello? Is he just a psychopath? Will Near ever be rescued? Will Mihael be taken over by Mihi and Mello?

....are Takada and Halle lesbian together? In my mind, yes. : D

~FragilePuzzle


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: **Hey guys. o.o This is, sadly, almost the end of the story. I hope this isn't too shitty of a climax for you all.. XD -is totally going to get shot-

* * *

Tall, black hair, glasses, a trench coat.

His name was Teru Mikami. Hometown: Fukuoka, Japan.

The internet was good for so many things. Once she found out his name, Halle was easily able to search the man – he wasn't very elusive, being quite a popular photographer. He claimed all of his work was to show God just how beautiful his creations were. However, he had also been arrested once before, on the charges of taking pictures that would be considered "illegal" of an underage girl. He was let go when he paid bail, and the girl decided the charges she wanted to press weren't so harsh.

After that, it was only a measure of Halle's patience as she found his phone number, as well as address.

Then the rest was simply a flash.

She remembered grabbing a gun she knew she had no idea how to use. Taking Takada's car and driving to the address, knocking on the door, seeing the man and asking if she could come in. Hearing a soft cry and whipping out the weapon, pressing it to the man's temple and forcing her way in, finding Near, calling the police –

Now they were here. She held Near in her arms, escorting the thin boy out of the apartment, immediately being greeted with a flood of policemen and newspaper reporters, all desperate to find out what she had done. All the blonde woman could do was shake her head and hold Near close, forcing her way through the crowd and refusing to answer any more questions. She'd had her share with the police, she wasn't about to give her time to these idiotic reporters.

"Halle…" murmured the petite man, one of the first words he'd spoken directly to the older woman. "I was so close… to finding Mihael. I-I—"

"'S okay, baby, we got 'im… Taki's with 'im right now, le's just ge' goin'," she said quickly, pushing a camera out of her face as they arrived at the car, helping Near into the passenger seat, hoping that none of the policemen or reporters recognized the doctor – many of them wanting to get their hands on his patient.

---x---

As soon as Halle walked into the bar, Near close behind, she could hear Mello screaming from upstairs. The sound was terrible and high-pitched, and quickly became accompanied by the squeaking of the old bed and the steady bang-bang-bang of the headboard hitting the wall.

"Give me more you little fucking cocktease!"

Near's eyes widened as he slowly walked over to the stairs, hesitating further as he heard a moan of contentment. What…could be going on up there? It was Mello's voice, that was for sure, but…

However, after Halle urged him up the stairs and the two arrived outside the room, Near could her the screams stopping. After apprehensively twisting the doorknob, the wooden frame swung open, the doctor's lips parting in surprise, disgust, and just plain shock.

Takada was injecting the blonde, who was tied to the bed with silky restraints from Near's closet, his body writing slightly as another moan slipped past his lips.

"N-N…Na-chi…?" Mihi murmured, his eyes glazed as his body relaxed. The black-haired woman pulled the needle out of his vein, looking at Halle and Near with wide brown eyes that showed just how much she knew what she did was wrong.

"H-he was begging and screaming and I-I didn't know what else to do but give it to him…he was in a lot of p-pain – "

"Where'd you even ge' tha'? Halle asked angrily, grabbing Takada by the wrist and dragging her out of the room, leaving Near and the almost-unconscious blonde alone together.

"Mihi…" Near whispered softly, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge of it, tracing his fingertips over the man's bruised and beaten body. Internally, he wanted to cry and hug the other man, but he was sure not to let those feelings show on the outside. Even in this situation, he had to stay calm and collected…both for Mihi and himself.

Leaning down, the doctor pressed a gentle kiss to Mihi's forehead, hearing as he let out a soft whimper. Despite the fact that he heard Takada and Halle yelling downstairs, Near was still able to lie down on the bed and hold the blonde close to his body, closing his tired eyes. It seemed as though he couldn't hear anything but the sound of the other man's heartbeat and his sweet, slow breathing.

---x---

Matt didn't actually expect Mello to be found by the police before he had a chance to come crawling back. But it appeared as though it wasn't even the police who had been looking for him, this whole time. That goddamned doctor had left the asylum to come after Mello…he had slept with the blonde, taken his virginity, and now he was planning on taking him completely.

Other's fingerprints dirtying his toys.

Made him want to wretch.

However, as the redhead focused more on the news, he knew exactly what he had to do. He was going to make that fucking doctor pay, and he was going to pay dearly. But he wouldn't kill him, no… he'd only drive him to the brink of insanity, and force Mello to be the one that pushed him over. Then Near would get hauled off to some dank prison or mental institution and he'd suffer, by god he'd suffer. To be observed at all times of the day, forced to swallow disgusting medicines that brought about bouts of dizziness and vomiting until you were screaming and crying for the pain to stop.

He'd be the one tied up in a straightjacket, nearly too tight to breathe, banging his head against the wall and wondering, wishing, begging for his time to die.

Maybe he'd get lucky and go to an institution that practiced shock therapy. That hurt like a motherfucker. Sure, it was just light pulses at first… but eventually, it just got so high your body simply couldn't bear it, but all you can do is scream and scream and scream and pull at the straps that held you to the table, begging and pleading to whatever god existed to end your miserable existence and make the pain -

- STOP.

Laughing wildly as he traced his eyes over the picture on the TV, Matt knew that he wanted to be the one to do all of those things to Near. What he wouldn't give to hear his sweet little cries and pleads.

"Ms. Halle Lidner was the one who ended up rescuing Nate River after he was kidnapped just over a week ago. She began to develop suspicions after her employee went missing, and she - along with another employee at her bar - quickly began to question around… "

That bar.

He knew where it was.

Halle was there. Near worked there.

B-I-N-G-fucking-O. He'd found Mello and Near. Two birds with one unintentionally-thrown stone. This would be so goddamn easy.

The redhead quickly stood off of the couch, the rubber soles of his large, heavy boots he seemed to constantly keep on thudding against the scuffed wooden floor. He strode over to the closet where he'd kept the things he didn't want Mello touching safely hidden away, opening it up and reaching to the top shelf. Hand immediately finding the cold, metal handle of a gun, his fingers curled triumphantly and yanked it down, finding that the six-shot revolver was fully loaded and ready to go.

Chuckling softly, Matt kept the gun clenched tightly in his fist as he grabbed the suede and fur vest that rested over the back of a nearby chair. He threw it over his muscled frame and zipped it over his torso, able to feel his chest rising and falling shallowly with excitement. Making no hesitation, finding it unnecessary to check and see if the safety was on before shoving the revolver down the neck of his vest, the man grinned as he tugged his goggles down over his eyes.

Taking an extra precaution by tucking a knife into his right boot, the redhead made sure his revolver wouldn't slip out of place before exiting the apartment, shutting the door softly behind him.

---x---

Halle was running her fingertips down Takada's neck, her other hand resting on the black-haired woman's thigh. Suddenly, she heard the door to the bar chime, signaling that somebody had walked in.

Quickly pulling away from the gentle touch, Halle's eyes widened as she realized the newcomer - the only customer on the bar - didn't look very happy. Especially not when he walked further into the light of the room, exposing his flaming red hair and gleaming goggles, tinted with orange lenses.

"May 'ah - "

The chesty blonde was interrupted as the male pulled out a revolver, pointing the nose of the barrel right at her face. Even from seven feet away, something about the stranger's stance told the woman that he wasn't messing around.

"Where's Mello?" he questioned, taking a few steps forward. Even if he did mean business, that didn't mean Halle was in the mood to play his silly games.

"Who's tha'?" she asked, trying to feign innocence, eyes wavering as she watched the gun barrel glint in the low light.

"I think you know. Don't wanna tell me? I'm afraid I'll have to blow your fucking head off…"

"I don'-"

"H-He's upstairs," Takada whispered breathily, her chest tightening the moment she spoke. The black-haired woman could feel the dirty look Halle was sending her out of the corner of her eye, but she tried to brush it off. Truthfully, she'd rather have one of the men upstairs get shot, rather than her or Halle.

"Thanks, darling," Matt said, a sadistic tone in his voice. "Now, why don't you come upstairs with me. Both of you. Or… no. Better yet, we'll just bring Mello and Near down here, won't we? That sounds good. Get them down here. Now. You. Black-haired bitch."

Takada immediately stood, despite the fact that she saw Halle reach out in attempt to stop her. However, the blonde woman was immediately stopped when Matt pointed the gun at her arm, waving it and signaling to her that she'd better put it back or pay the consequences.

"Go get them. If I found out you tried any funny business, I'll kill all four of you."

'How did he know there was four of us…?' Halle wondered silently, simply remaining seated on the barstool, her hands wringing one another out. She was forced to watch as Takada climbed the stairs to the bedrooms on the upper floor, hearing the creaks of the floor as she walked over to Near's room; the sweep of the door brushing against the rug in front of it as she turned the knob, and the squeaks of the bed as she woke the two men that had, apparently, been sleeping.

"Who are you?" the blonde asked quietly, looking at the redheaded man who was still, despite the fact that she had considered herself to be pretty cooperative in this situation, pointing a gun at her head - safety off.

"Mello didn't tell you about me?" he chuckled, turning to look at her more, even taking another step closer. "Aw. I feel offended."

With a Glasgow grin, Halle realized who it was.

This must be Matt.

"Matt," she murmured, eyes narrowing. "You're the one who tortured li'l Mihi, you sick fuckin' bastard - "

"Don't move. Just stay where you are. You can yell all you want, you fucking annoying bitch, but don't fucking move," the man hissed, his finger curling around the trigger, threatening to pull. "God…such petty, annoying little dolls. Sacks of flesh and bones, just beating organs… the only thing keeping you alive. How pathetic."

Before Halle could say anything else, Takada, as well as a tired-looking Near and Mello came down the stairs. Mello was childishly clinging to the white-haired doctor's arm, and it didn't seem as though either of them noticed Matt at first.

"Well, well, well…"

Near's head shot up at the voice he immediately recognized. Pupils contracted before widening considerably, gray eyes wavering as they took in the sight of a shining gun barrel directed at his face.

"Matt," he whispered, voice cracking and seeming to stick in his throat. However, aside from the soft thud of rubber against wood as the redhead took a step forward, as well as a cocky grin – the doctor received no response from the armed man.

Mello did.

"Seems like so long since I've seen you, Mels," he murmured, finger twitching irregularly on the trigger of the revolver. "Why'd you run away? Huh? Was I not treating you good enough? Did you wanna be pampered and fucked gently by this little pussy?"

Matt's voice rose to a roar as he continued to speak, walking over to Near and grabbing him by the front of the shirt. It didn't seem as though the white-haired man was nearly as afraid as the blonde behind him, clinging to his arm and hiding from the taller man.

"You dared to fucking touch him… my property."

"Mihael is not property," Near immediately retorted, shooting Halle a look out of the corner of his eye. However, it didn't seem as though Matt noticed this. His own green eyes were bubbling with rage underneath the orange lenses that separated them from the world.

His anger would be his downfall.

"He's MY property, you goddamn fucking—"

"Drop your gun!" Halle suddenly demanded, appearing behind Matt and pressing the barrel of her own gun to the redhead's temple. "Now!"

With another barked command, Matt slowly let go of the front of Near's shirt, a large grin continuing to tug at the corner of his lips – as though he thought it wasn't over, as though he thought nothing could stop him anyways.

"Aren't we spunky--?"

"I said dro' it. Now."

"Dro it? I'm not sure I know how to do that…"

Without another word, Halle spun her gun away from the redhead's temple, bringing it to his wrist and pressing it against the back of his hand. Just as Matt tried to tug away from her firm grip on his back and arm, there was a loud bang and a cry of pain. Before Near knew what was happening, blood spurted onto his face and chest, staining the pure white with dripping hot red. The doctor barely had time to move before Matt fell to the floor, shrieking bloody murder, holding his hand to his chest.

"You idiot!" he screamed, writhing in pain, holding his hand tightly to his chest as it continually gushed warm blood. "Shoot that fucker!"

Reaching up with his other hand, he tried to grab at Near's pant leg, the white-haired man being tugged back by Mihi, who was whimpering softly – obviously scared.

"Hell naw," Halle hissed, pressing her foot to the back of the redhead's neck after kicking his gun away. Keeping her own barrel trained on Matt's head, she looked up at Mello and Near, desperate glints flickering through her eyes.

"Ya'll… ya'll get goin'."

Near didn't register what she was trying to suggest, only blinking a few times, Matt's quieting cries of agony still ringing in his ears. With a slightly dull look, feeling blood trailing down the soft curve of his cheek, he looking up at Halle.

"…w-what?"

"You and Mihi get outta' here now! Taki's 'ready callin' the police! They'll take you both back if you don' get outta' here now! We've ha' enough trouble for the day, ha'nt we?"

Matt tried to worm his way out from underneath Halle's foot, causing her to hesitate before shooting a flesh wound into the top of his shoulder, nicking his clavicle.

"Fucking bitch!" he howled, continuing to squirm and scream, his body movements becoming even more erratic.

"The ba' door!"

Mihi tugged on Near's arm softly, shuddering as Matt looked him in the eyes, trying to escape his furious gaze.

"Halle… thank… t-thank…"

"Don't say it, go!"

Near turned on his heel, quickly intertwining his fingers with Mihi's as he pulled the taller blonde towards the back door, wishing he could block out Matt's angry obscenities directed at the innocent boy.

"Fucking traitor!" he shrieked, letting out a groan of pain and utter frustration. "I can't believe I ever loved you! G-Get back here! Fucking help me! Help me, goddamnit! Don't leave me for him! M-Mello, fuck--!"

There was another gunshot and a loud, desperate scream, Near yanking Mihi out the back door before he could turn around to see anything. Then they ran.

---x---

Halle was right. Almost immediately after Mello and Near had left, the police arrived. They had quickly taken Matt from her, escorting her over to the bar to sit next to Takada, her walls falling now that she had nobody to hold them up for. Slowly, the blonde raised her eyes from the floor, where they seemed to have been glued ever since the authorities had arrived on the scene. The only thing that really caught her attention was when Matt started to speak – the redhead had been quiet, spare the occasional whimper, as soon as Mello left.

But now he was talking again... saying the exact things Halle didn't expect to hear.

"Wait!" Matt screeched, desperately yanking on the policeman's arms, his eyes no longer gleaming with a mad fury or an insane rage. "Please! L-Let me go! Mello?! Mello, I love you! Mello! Mello, don't let them take me! I love you! Mello!!"

However, she only watched as the officers dragged the screaming and flailing man out of the bar, her head falling into her hands as she realized she'd probably never see the small, white-haired doctor ever again. He was gone, along with Mihael. At least… they would be safe. Too many thoughts buzzing around in her head caused the pounding in her temples to increase, making it even harder to pay any attention to anything going on around her.

"Halle," whispered Takada, coming up to the other woman and lifting her face with two fingers. "It was for the best. They're gone now. Safe. Baby, if you didn't let them go, they would'a gotten taken off, just like him. You did a good thing."

"Thank you," was all Halle could choke out, not wanting to cry in front of anybody. But it was okay. Everybody was safe, good had triumphed, and even if she didn't get to see Near again… they'd be alright.

---x---

Matt was led down a row of cells, kicking and screaming, causing some of his future inmates to jostle themselves up and over to their barricades from the world and stare out at him. The redhead could feel eyes drilling into him from beyond darkened bars, but he didn't care.

"MELLO!" he screamed as loud as he could, still trying to struggle madly, doing anything to break free of the guard's grasp. However, an idea suddenly popped into his head. "W-wait! Wait! I can tell you where they went! I know where Mihael Keehl and Nate River are! The escaped mental patient and the doctor! J-J-Just take me to your supervisor, and I'll tell him!"

The guards holding him paused for a moment, wondering if he was telling the truth, and he really did know where the two were. They weren't looking for the doctor, no, they had already found him - he obviously hadn't been with the blonde, but…

Changing courses, the guards took a few twists and turns, arriving outside of the dean's office within a couple of minutes. They immediately entered, Matt now calmer, his eyes gleaming with thoughts of escape.

"Sir, this man claims he knows where Mihael Keehl is. We have found that they were living together for quite a while after the initial escape from the asylum, despite what we thought," one of the guards said, an official tone to his voice. After a moment, the dean turned and looked at Matt, flexing and unflexing his fingers a few times. His brunette locks fell into his eyes as he flipped back his head to expose honey-colored eyes that seemed to be dripping with utter evil.

"If you're looking for the title of Dean's Bitch, I'm afraid it's already taken…" he murmured, looking the newcomer up and down. "Speaking of which, I haven't seen Lawli today. Go get him."

One of the guards nodded and left the room, leaving only Matt, the dean, and a single guard remaining.

"My name is Light," the dean purred, crossing his legs before resting his chin on his interlaced fingers, giving himself the air of a sophisticated woman, whether that was what he was going for or not.

"Matt."

"So, you say you know where Mihael Keehl is?" the brunette man asked, his voice still low and seductive.

"Yes, I do."

There was silence for a few moments, only being interrupted when the office door opened again, and a raven-haired man was led in. His overly-long, messy hair fell along his pale face, large onyx eyes peeking out from underneath the tangled strands. It didn't seem as though he gave Matt more than a glance before walking over to the dean, standing quietly behind him.

"Good morning, Lawli-pop," chuckled the brunette, not taking his eyes off of the redhead stationed in front of him. He got no response from the lanky newcomer.

"I know where he is!" Matt urged, wondering what the hell was wrong with these people - why they didn't insist on knowing right away.

"I don't think you do."

"I fucking do! He's - "

"I don't appreciate his language. Please take him away," Light gestured, waving his hand dismissively. "He was only admitted because of the murder and abuse. He should be in an insane asylum… I don't listen to crazies. Dismiss his testimony on the charges of insanity."

Matt was stunned, not saying anything until his arms were held on to once again, a burly guard at either of his sides. That was when his green eyes widened, and he began to kick and scream once again, thrashing wildly about - wanting anything but to go back to one of those dark, dank, lonely cells. He couldn't stand it.

"NO!" he screamed. "PLEASE GOD NO!"

"Hurry up. He's creating a certain stench in the air," demanded Light, turning his attention back to the prisoner that had been standing behind his desk. "Now Lawli, I think I need your help with something."

No matter how loudly Matt cried, nothing stopped him from being dragged off and thrown into one of the small, cement cells. Life sentence.

"MELLO!"

* * *

**End Note: **Tell me what you thought... I feel both terrible and proud that I shot Matt and put him in prison. XD Originally, he was just going to get hauled off, but Halle decided to do her own thing when I was writing - and she ended up shooting him. o.o So yah. One more chapter after this one.. prolly put it up tomorrow since it's been done over a month.

~FragilePuzzle


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: **Wellllll... as far as this chapter goes, I suppose it's the end. D: Not that this chapter is of any real PLOT significance.. I just wanted to add a happy ending. : D Because I'm obsessed with those things~ I figured I needed to tie all the loose strings as well.. so here you go!

* * *

"M-Mello, s-stop," Near managed to choke out, his petite hands pulling at the older man's firm grip around his throat. "M-Mello is hurting me…"

"I want it!" he growled, his whole body covered with goosebumps as he tensed up again, his free hand moving to press against the bandages that covered his arm, feeling the swollen injection sites underneath the white cloth. "I know you have it! Give it to me!"

"Mello…I-I do not have any heroin…"

"You do! You do! Where is Matt? MATT! I want MATT! Matt?! Matt, I love you! Please Matt, I need it!" Mello screamed, dropping his hold on the other man and allowing him to breathe once again. As the blonde dropped his head into his hands, he shivered before looking back up at Near. His eyes widened as he saw the red that decorated Near's thin neck, and Mihael immediately felt like throwing up with guilt.

"N-Nate, I'm so sorry!" he quickly pleaded, leaning forward and pressing a hand to the other man's round cheek, his blue eyes large with worry. "Are you okay? Do you need a doctor? Jeezus…"

"I am fine…" he smiled shakily, leaning forward and lightly kissing the blonde's lips. "Please do not worry about it…I am sure it will stop in time. I am very proud of Mihael. He was able to control himself eventually."

The blonde man let out a small, sad smile, raising one of his hands and softly petting the forming bruises. Near was right…he could learn to control it. In time, he'd be able to be Mihael - not Mello, not Mihi, but Mihael.

---x---

"A-ahh…M-Mihael…!" whimpered Near, his fingernails digging into the other man's shoulders, the only sounds in the room the light creaking of the bed and the moans and uneven gasps for breath the two were emitting. "N-nh-hhh-ahh!"

Suddenly, the thick blanket of sweat and the smell of love-making that hung in the air was pierced with the loudest cry yet - Near finally felt the tight coil in his stomach loosen as his hot seed decorated Mihael's chest in erratic spurts, and his small body tensed before relaxing completely. Mihael's thrusts slowed as he felt his own release, his face buried in the doctor's chest as he allowed their breathing to even out.

After a few more moments of still secrecy, Mihael broke the silence by pulling out of Near's tightened entrance, both of them lightly gasping. The blonde then pulled the smaller into his arms, making sure there was no space in between their heated bodies as he placed light kisses across his forehead and hairline.

"Thank you for coming after me…" he whispered, his slightly chapped lips brushing the soft skin of Near's cheek as he moved to kiss him once again. "Jezus…I love you…more than anybody else."

"I love Mihael as well," Near said softly, his small hands gently clutching at the blonde's chest.

There was silence after that, because there were simply no more words that needed to be said. Near could feel as the other man's breathing slowed, both of their bodies cooling, the smell of sweat diminishing slightly as the hours passed. However, Near simply could not bring himself to fall asleep, not yet. It was as though he had forgotten to do something, but didn't know what it was.

Slowly, he reached up and almost began to twirl one of his white curls. But, without his mind's consent, his hand changed path halfway through it's course. Instead of going to knot his own hair, it moved into Mihael's, beginning to absentmindedly twirl it.

"Mommy…" Mihi murmured softly, readjusting himself in his sleep as he felt delicate fingers entwining themselves in his golden locks. He felt a pair of thin arms wrap themselves around his torso next, then a soft pair of lips at his cheek. Feeling so warm…so safe…he was able to allow himself to drift back into deep sleep.

Near smiled as his gray eyes traced the blonde's face. A hand moved from his torso up to his slightly muscular neck as the doctor pulled Mihi closer, then down his arm. The white-haired man could feel the ridges and bumps of past scars, but if there was one thing he was thankful for, it was the fact that they were past scars.

"I love Mihael…Mihi…and Mello…" whispered Near, tugging the other man closer before allowing his own eyes to slip shut, finally glad that there was peace. Even if it were only for the moment, it was as though life was suddenly perfect. And it was only with Mihael would it be that way.

---x---

"Na-chi, have you been eating healthy?" Mihi asked, galloping down the stairs of the large house they shared, landing at the bottom step with a large thud. He looked left and right before deciding going out towards the kitchen would be his best bet, and he childishly stumbled towards the large room.

"Good morning, Mihi," the white-haired man murmured, turning around with a small smile at his lips. He was standing by the counter, working at an apple with a sharp knife, about to cut it into pieces. However, before he could do so, Mihi walked over to him and picked him up, setting him down on the counter. The blonde giggled at the surprised look in the doctor's eyes, but he only proceeded to nuzzle his face into the baggy white pajama top Near was wearing.

Before Near could say anything, Mihi reached up and pressed a hand to his stomach, beginning to softly rub it. Looking up at him with large blue eyes and a bright smile, he bit his lip and nodded happily.

"Is there something Mihi needs…?" asked Near, looking down at the blonde man.

"Nothing, Na-chi…" he smiled, gently kissing the doctor's stomach. "You're just so beautiful! You're even prettier than mommy!"

Smiling again without giving the white-haired man much of a chance to process how much weight that last statement carried, Mihi grabbed the apple and the knife that rested on the counter next to Near, much to the doctor's distress. However, before the man could say anything about being careful of the sharp utensil, Mihi was carving away at the apple. It only took him a few seconds before he was done, and with a small blush on his face, he turned around and handed Near the apple.

Quickly checking Mihi's hands to make sure he hadn't poked himself, Near then turned to the apple. There was a small heart carved into it, the missing piece being held in the blonde's hands. Near only smiled at Mihi, absolutely adoring his childlike innocence.

"It is very pretty," he said, watching as the blush flamed across Mihi's cheeks. "I love it."

There was silence for a moment, and Near could tell that Mihi wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure what. After a few chirps of birds from outside, the blonde spoke, his voice hesitant and nervous.

"Na-chi…will you marry me?" he asked quietly, playing with the hem of his shirt and looking up at the white-haired man through a veil of bangs, his face as red as it had ever been.

Near blushed a soft shade of pink, a tiny smile playing on his lips as he looked at the Mihi's apprehensive expression. He was just too adorable sometimes…

"Of course," murmured Near, letting out a small 'oof' as he was yanked off the counter and into Mihael's arms, the blonde chuckling.

"I might have asked as Mihi, but you're keeping your commitment," grinned Mihael, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the doctor's nose, watching as he smiled lightly in response.

"Of course…"

"_And then the prince swept the princess off her feet and the two of them got married and lived happily ever after," Misa finished, shutting the large book, watching as her son's eyes welled over. "…Mihi, is there something wrong?"_

"_I-It was so pretty…" he sniffled, wiping at his eyes in embarrassment. "S-she was such a beautiful princess…a-and her brave knight…a-and they beat t-the mean monster…a-and….!"_

"_I know you'll find your princess one day, Mihi," whispered Misa, tucking her son in to bed, giving him a soft kiss on the forehead. "I promise you will."_

_As the light was turned out, Mihi closed his eyes and nuzzled under the sheets, wiping his eyes and allowing a small smile to bloom on his face as he thought of the ending of the story._

"_And then the prince swept the princess off her feet and the two of them got married and lived happily ever after…" he murmured, allowing his breathing to even out. "I'm coming, princess…"_

* * *

**End Note: **Ehehe... I loved that ending. Near is a pretteh princess. : D ANYWAYS. I'd just like to thank you all for putting up with me for this long.. I mean, I started this story in November and didn't finish it until now - WTF FACTOR IS OVER 9000. But, that aside.. thank you all. : D A lot. It means more to me than you will ever know. XD

Until next time! Peace, love - and, of course, yaoi~

~FragilePuzzle


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